


A Guy With a Secret

by areyouserial



Series: The Penthouse [2]
Category: Blue Bloods (TV)
Genre: Definite sexual shenanigans though, Idiots in Love, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-04-17 23:01:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 45,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14199540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyouserial/pseuds/areyouserial
Summary: Following their unexpected reconciliation in New York, Jamie and Noble can't seem to say goodbye. They form an easy, unlikely friendship that always dances on the edge of something more. Flirtatious phone calls and text messages from afar leave the lines blurred. So what happens when Noble decides to visit his friend in the city once again?The continuation of The Penthouse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story officially begins with The Penthouse and continues here. Hope you enjoy!

My phone hardly ever lights up this early in the morning. After my shower, I cross my bedroom for a pair of boxers from my dresser and I notice the buzz on my nightstand. I slide them on, snapping the waistband at my hip, then turn to pick up my phone.

 **Noble:**  If I’m up this early, I’m going to document it.

Along with his message is a picture of a sunrise on the beach. A ball of fiery orange peeks above the horizon glowing in copper and pink over serene blue water.

The image – and seeing his name on my phone kicks up this habit I have of missing him. The urge will sneak up on me throughout the day – to reach out to him, to tell him about my day or some random observation about the city or the job. And it’s a habit the both of us have indulged over the last several weeks.

Before I knew it, Noble had become the first person I talk to in the morning, and the last person I talk to before I go to sleep.

Shit, that’s weird to think about.

My thumbs hover over the screen of my phone before I tap out my reply.

 **Jamie:**  Are you only seeing the sunrise because you’ve been up all night, or…?

 **Noble:** I go for a run out here before I go to work, thank you very much.

 **Jamie:**  Well I’m jealous of your view, I won’t lie.

I set my phone on the dresser and head to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

Examining my face, I swipe a hand over my freshly shaved jawline before I back away from the mirror. I return to my blinking phone in the bedroom, mentally noting the time before I take a seat on the edge of the bed to read his message.

 **Noble:**  It’s not bad. I’d take the city over the beach any day though.

 **Jamie:**  Hit me up in January and tell me if you still feel that way.

 **Noble:**  Touché

 **Jamie:**  When did you start running?

 **Noble:** When I quit using and I hate it. But I have to be able to outrun you next time you try to arrest me for disorderly conduct.

A smile curves on my face and I exhale a soft laugh.

 **Jamie:**  You couldn’t outrun me. Nice try, though.

 **Noble:**  Ha. I know you could kick my ass. That’s why I need to get on my game.

 **Jamie:**  When are you coming back to New York to be disorderly with me?

I ask the question and immediately regret it. We’ve talked a few times about wanting to hang out again. But it’s in vague, indefinite terms –  _One day we’ll have to do this. Next time you’re here, we should check this out_. But neither of us has broached the topic of when all of  _this_ would happen.

 **Noble:**  You miss me already?

My lips tic at the sentiment. For a moment, I can hear his voice when he asks and it makes the back of my neck hot.

I reply with a stock answer the both of us have used with one another, seemingly when the conversation veers off a little more than friendly.

 **Jamie:** I don’t have to answer that.

 **Noble:**  I’m working on it. Soon. I hope.

The hazy possibility makes me swallow hard and rather than dwell on what that could mean, I simply let him go with an easy message:

 **Jamie:**  Alright. Well I need to get ready for work. Catch you later.

 **Noble:**  Be safe. Have a good day.

I darken my phone screen and my heartbeat picks up a little. The heavy pulse betrays my logic to sell me out and it’s undeniable that I miss him.


	2. Chapter 2

“Have you ever had sex with a married woman?”

Noble greets me with his question just after I answer the phone. He often starts phone conversations that way with me, just picks up in the middle as if we carry on this endless dialogue.

I inhale deeply and adjust in my couch, reaching for the remote to turn down the football game on my television. “No.” I tell him. “Not that I know of.”

He blows out a short laugh.

“Why? Have you?”

I hear the sounds of the road in the background as if he's driving. “Uhh…”

“What, like just now?”

“No,” he chuckles. “It was a long time ago--”

“Jeez--” my breath hisses in amusement. “I feel like the number of people who have tried to kill you is bigger than I realize.”

“Hey. One day, get me drunk and I'll tell you that story.”

“You're a fucking deviant.”

“I was just a misguided youth.”

“What?” An incredulous laugh escapes me. “How old were you when you slept with this married lady?”

“I know my rights, Officer. I don't have to answer that.”

“You brought it up!”

“I was seventeen.”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I have to shake my head. “Shit, dude.”

“A story for another day!” He insists. “I brought it up because there's this job I have. The property is pretty massive. We're doing retaining walls, underground wiring for a lighting feature. All this shit. And the lady who lives there… definitely needs something to do. She needs a hobby.”

“You're saying she wants you to be  _her_ hobby.”

“She did invite me in for a martini at ten a.m. and then told me I should come see about a very rare bush that needs some special attention upstairs--”

I nearly choke on my beer before I manage a hard swallow, then tip my head back to wail into the phone.  “A rare bush!”

“I mean, I can only assume she wanted to fuck the landscaper.”

My head falls back on the couch and I crack up. My laughter trails off to a weary groan. “So how was it? As good as it was when you were seventeen?”

“Fuck off.” I can hear the grin in his voice. “I passed on that. They were  _vodka_ martinis. I have standards.”

I keep laughing, reaching up to pinch between my closed eyes. “How old is she?”

“She’s not  _old_. I don't know, like forties?

“So if it had been  _gin_ martinis…”

He fakes thoughtful consideration with a loud hum.

“What if she had cooked a homemade pasta and offered you pricey wine you've never heard of with some cute, fake accent--”

“Oh hey now,” he groans, and I hear him shift and can tell from the jingle of keys that he cuts his engine to get out of the car. “That's my big move.”

I chew lightly on the inside of my cheek as my laughter tapers. “Oh yeah?”

“Fake accent,” he scoffs. “I heard that.”

“So what are you gonna do, man?” I wonder. “I assume you’ll be working at this house for a while--”

“Minding my own business, that’s what I’m going to do.”

“Sure, but it’s a long day. It’s hot, you’re working hard,” I list for him. “She just wants you to come in and relax.”

“Shut up,” he laughs.

“Too bad she’s married.”

“Too bad for her. I’m not feeling it.”

“Heartbreaker,” I tease in a low murmur.

“Yeah, you’re one to talk.”

The retort burns in my chest, his deep voice buzzing there. “Me?”

Exhaling a soft breath, he moves around, making noises as if he just got home. “Please,” he rasps. “You’re telling me you don’t go around the city breaking hearts in that uniform?”

I groan noisily but I have to smile anyway.

“Fueling people’s cop fantasies.”

“Cop fantasies aren’t a thing.”

“Oh-ho.” A low chuckle rumbles through the phone.

“And I  _know_ it’s not a fantasy for you.”

“Lately, it sort of has been.”

His confession descends through me and unexpectedly makes my dick twitch.  _Fuck_.

My teeth drag across my bottom lip and I can feel my heart beating in my ears. “You gonna tell me more, or are you leaving that information there?”

“I’m gonna leave it there.”

This frustrated grunt escapes me and I hear Noble clear his throat before he blows out a quiet laugh.

“Alright fine,” I speak up, then shift as I tip my beer to my lips. “So what are you up to tonight?”

“I just got home,” he answers. “I’m gonna take a shower and try to forget the rare bush lady. What about you?”

Leaning forward, I slide my beer bottle to the coffee table, then push myself up off the couch. I turn and idly pace across the floor, then make my way back to the bedroom. “Let’s see, the deli on the corner had this deal on jars of spaghetti sauce--”

“No.  _ **No**_ \--” His voice cuts me off, stern and rigid as I bait him. I can’t help my amusement at how easily he’s offended by that. “Don’t tell me shit like that. Don’t put a fucking jar of spaghetti sauce on your pasta. I swear to God, Jamie--”

His outrage makes me crack up and I lower my weight heavily to my bed where I fall back. “Alright, I’m sorry I said that. I actually already ate dinner, I was just trying to piss you off.”

“Don’t be surprised if I show up in New York tomorrow just to come judge the food you have in your apartment.”

A sly smile pulls at my cheek. I can’t encourage him to come back to New York. I shouldn’t. It’s too dangerous.

But I find myself imagining him here all the time. I crave another night like the one we had at his penthouse. So easy, with this charge in the air I don't think I'd ever felt before. I need to feel it again.

“Hey, I do just fine,” I tell him. “But if it means a free meal out of you, consider yourself invited.”

“You’re such a freeloading whore.”

Tipping my head back on the bed, I laugh and run a hand across my eyes. There's a soreness in my face I can't deny from smiling more than usual. “A  _whore_ implies that I sleep around for this free meal, but I'm only interested in you, dude.”

He lets out this rattled groan. “Okay,  _dude_.” He's given me shit before for my blurry version of maybe, possibly flirting with him only to follow up my sentiment with a decidedly platonic nickname. “What are you doing this weekend?”

I consider it, scraping teeth across my lower lip. “I don't know yet. What are you doing?”

“Finding a way to come see you.”

A burning reality check stings me for a moment, sending my gut into a tailspin. It's one thing to talk about, tease each other with the notion for weeks, and then end the phone call to return to normal life.

But Noble actually coming back to New York stirs up a hundred real possibilities in my head, ranging from deadly to incredible and I've imagined them all.

Swallowing hard, I exhale so that my voice is even when I tell him, “Alright, you talk a big game so we'll see about that.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Man, someone’s blowing you up, Reagan,” Vinny teases, noting the continued buzz of my phone as we exit the bodega on the corner.

I tuck a bottle of water under my arm and feel for my pocket. When I pull out my phone, I see a series of message alerts.

“You’ve been in demand these days. You know it hurts my feelings that you’re getting serious with some girl and haven’t told your partner about it.”

I glance over at him, coughing out a laugh as we head back to the car. I round the front and offer him a shake of my head before pulling open the door to drop into the driver’s seat.

“Nobody’s getting serious with anybody,” I tell him.

While Vinny distracts himself unwrapping his sub sandwich in the passenger seat, I check my phone.

The first message from Noble is a photo of a departure sign as if he’s sitting at an airport gate.  _ **Departs 3:30PM. New York (LGA)**_

Then beneath it:

 

> **Noble:**   _Don’t tell me I talk a big game._
> 
> **Noble:**   _I hope you’re free tomorrow night._
> 
> **Noble:**   _Dude. :)_

 

My eyes narrow in faint confusion. I guess it feels dumb to assume, but I can’t help the disappointment that dips into my chest that he’s flying in today, but wouldn’t see me until tomorrow.

We hadn’t really talked since the other day when he threw the proposition out there that he would come to New York this weekend. This picture is the first realization of it.

“Got big Friday night plans?” Vinny wonders beside me.

I clear my throat, darkening the screen of my phone before I reach for my water. “Nah. You?”

He looks at me, arching a questioning brow before his gaze flicks down to the phone on my leg. “You’re shady, Reagan!”

“I am not,” I laugh with an innocent shrug.

With a suspicious glare, he nods thoughtfully while he chews a bite of his turkey sub. “Alright, then let’s hang out this weekend.”

“What?” The question drags out of me with this weird, fake note to it. I run a nervous hand over my face and glance out the driver’s side window. “Since when do we hang out on the weekends?”

“I mean since you’re flying solo. A single guy with no plans. No girl hitting you up on your phone all day…”

“Okay.” I exhale an amused breath. “Mind your business, man. Besides, I find it hard to believe you don’t have plans on a Friday night.”

“You’re right. I got plans. But I’m onto you, man.”

“Onto  _what_?”

“I see you on that phone, looking all… you know.”

I blank hard and turn to look at him. “Looking all what?”

He swallows another bite. “Preoccupied.”

A scoff hisses out of me.

“Caught up,” he continues.

“Stop.” I smirk, my head dropping back against the headrest.

“ _Enamorado_ –”

I groan. “Get out of here.”

“Alright fine, play it cool.” He shrugs. “But I know you. And someone’s got you good, Reagan.”

 

* * *

 

 

I can’t bring myself to acknowledge that Vinny’s right. That if nothing else, Noble has affected me in a way I didn’t anticipate. I’m not sure if I’m in a better mood, or more nervous, or more…  _preoccupied_ , but I’m different somehow. Thoughts of him consume more of my brain than I’m comfortable admitting.

It isn’t until after my tour that I’m able to respond to Noble’s texts and by then, he’s likely in the air. I simply reply with:  _What do you feel like doing?_  And leave it for him.

It’s later when he gets back to me, my phone lighting up with a call from across the room. My heart pounds a little harder when I see his name before I answer.

“Hello?”

“There he is,” Noble announces.

“Hey.” I grin, idly making my way out of my bedroom. “What’s going on, man?”

“Are we hanging out tomorrow or what?”

“Are you here?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Yeah? Well I’ll believe it when I see it.” I’m only half-teasing.

“Not tonight,” he tells me. “I’ve got something I gotta do. But tomorrow, I’m yours.”

It’s funny how this information swirls in my chest prompting too many reactions at once. I can’t help but be hung up on whatever his priority is for the night. 

I wonder if he’s walking into something high-risk. If it’s even my place to keep him from getting into something stupid – some of his old shit that could put him back on the radar of the Cavazerres or OCCB.

Or I consider the notion that he’s using again, getting together with a tempting, former bad habit.

And then maybe a small fragment of my worry is that he has a date or he’s seeing somebody, but I mentally push that aside. If he was, so what?

“Something you’ve got to do?” I wonder.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Well… I worry a little, man. Let’s be honest. You’re not even supposed to be in New York.”

“Alright, you want to hang out tonight?” He asks. “I can move some things around–”

“It’s not that. It’s–”

“I assure you, it’s nothing. It’s totally lowkey, just tying up some loose ends.”

“Yeah, I’ve witnessed your version of  _tying up loose ends_ , Noble.” I recall the night I tagged along with Noble to a run-down bar in Brooklyn and watched him force some guy named Richie to snort lines of this heinous mash of LSD and meth. Just another version of payback inside that web he was born into.

“It’s nothing like that,” he assures me. “Look. You and me. It’s happening tomorrow. What do you wanna do? You name it, I’m there.”

I cough out a laugh, reaching up to scratch the back of my head.

“What do you usually do on Saturdays?”

Exhaling, I peer out my window onto the quiet block. “That’s my long run day.”

“Alright. Let’s go for a run,” he proposes.

I have to laugh again, my brow furrowing in confusion. That wasn’t exactly where my thoughts had drifted when I imagined the next time we’d see each other. “Get real.”

“Seriously. Where do you want to run?”

“Well I usually run Prospect Park, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be out in Brooklyn.”

“That’s fair.”

A pleased smile slants on my face the more I think about him out there with me and I warn, “I run early, man.”

“I can do it,” he insists. “Damn, you have no faith in me.”

With a chuckle, I let my head tip down and I pace my living room. “Alright, fine. Can you make it up to Van Cortlandt Park? Eight-thirty?”

He lets out this hiss of air like a balloon deflating. “Shit, Jamie.”

“What?”

“I gotta get all the way up to the Bronx, cut me some slack.”

“So do I.”

This loud, exaggerated groan rumbles through the phone.

“Okay, nine o’clock,” I offer with a smirk. “And you get no slack from me.”

He sighs and the hot sound of his breath catches in my chest. “Damn, Officer.”

“You said you were in.”

“I’m in!” He asserts. “Nine a.m.”

“Alright,” I agree. “Don’t back out on me.”

“I won’t.” 

“Listen,” I tell him. “Stay out of trouble tonight, okay?”

“Jamie–”

“I’m serious.”

“Okay,  _friend_.” The low note in his voice thuds in my pulse. “Besides, I’m saving all the trouble for when I see you tomorrow.” 


	4. Chapter 4

It figures he wouldn't show.

Pacing just inside the entrance to the park off Broadway, I check my watch. 9:18 a.m. I'd give him two more minutes before I just did my damn run alone.

The faint pounding of steps on concrete resounds behind me before they jump to my side with a sudden landing.

Swiftly I turn around to see Noble bounce once on the rubber soles of his Nikes, blowing out a soft laugh.

“Sorry! I never come up here. I got confused,” he explains, then digs his teeth into his bottom lip as his face lights up with a grin. “What's up, man?” Then he pulls me in for a strong hug.

I hesitate a moment before I let myself lean in and reciprocate. His familiar smell, crisp and deep like cedar settles inside me before we clap each other on the back and ease apart.

He looks good -- a deep tan and shining green eyes, that charming curvy smile that I missed. But when I glance up at him, the slight red and purple beginnings of a scar at his lower lip grabs my attention.

“Hey,” I start and I can feel the concern on my brow. “What happened to you?”

“What?” He fakes this clueless tone but his fingers instinctively go to his mouth.

My head tilts and already I'm suspicious about what he's gotten into since he's been here. “Your lip. Looks like someone roughed you up.”

“No, no.” He glances away. “What, this? This happened at work.”

“No it didn't.”

He looks at me and I challenge him with a steady gaze, my jaw tightening as I swallow.

“What happened?” I ask again.

He manages a deep breath and gives me a slight shake of his head. “Nothing you need to know about.”

“Who did it?”

“Nobody.”

“Noble--”

“Look, I just want to see you and hang out,” he insists, rocking impatiently a few times on the balls of his feet. “Are we gonna run? Let's run.”

“Are you high?”

“What?” An offended line cuts between his brows. “No. Jamie.”

I want to believe him, but he's being so evasive, I might as well start with the basics. “So what's the deal? Where were you last night?”

With a scoff, he quickly averts his gaze. “Is this… what we're doing now?” He gestures between the two of us. “You're pissed I had plans with someone else?”

I glance over my shoulder, suddenly aware of how public this conversation is. I lower my voice. “This isn't about being jealous, if that's what you mean. This is about needing to trust that you're not getting yourself into something dangerous here. And dragging me into it, too.”

“I'm not dragging you into anything.”

“I'm here with you right now. We talk practically everyday, Noble,” I explain. “Did you come to New York to see me, or to do whatever it is you did last night?”

“To see you, man!”

“Okay, so like it or not, we're a part of each other's lives. So if you put a target on your back last night, inevitably it affects me too.” Resting hands loosely on my hips, I rock a step back, swallowing hard before I quietly add, “And I don't want to see you get hurt.”

He lets my argument settle there for a moment. Something almost sad flickers there in his gaze and I see the conflict flare in the hard edge of his jaw. “I don't want to put  _you_ in a position to get hurt,” he tells me. “You won't be. But I need you to just trust me.”

“Tell me where you were, or I'm out of here.” I cut him off sharply.

Pressing his lips together, he seems to contemplate calling my bluff. But I would leave. If Noble has people after him, I can't let myself be pulled into that, regardless of how I feel about him. I've been too badly burned in the past.

He shifts his weight, leisurely pivoting away and scratches nervous fingers in his hair. Then he turns to me once more. “Would I be talking to you, my friend, or you, the cop?”

“I'm both. That's what you get with me.”

He exhales hard. “I can't, Jamie.”

Nodding almost dismissively, I take a step back. “Fine. Neither can I.”

“Jay--” He starts toward me, reaching for my elbow. “Hey. Alright.” Running a hand over his face, he pauses, looking at me as if to assess whether he can trust me. “I owed a guy some money. That's it. I met with him last night to settle up. But it's done.”

I furrow my brow. “Owed money for what?”

“I had some money on a fight. It was a bad bet. I lost a couple grand--”

“A couple grand? Jeez--” I exhale, glancing down the block. “What, you're gambling now?”

I can tell my judgmental tone stings him a little and he looks at the pavement.

I come closer, nudging the back of my hand against his arm. “Come on. Talk to me and we'll walk.” Tilting my head toward the start of the trail, I look at him and wait.

He follows in step with me and we manage a few paces together in silence.

“So what's with the lip?” I speak up. “You couldn't cover it?”

“No, I covered it. I have the money. I just… I'm a jerk with too much pride and I tried to negotiate.”

I can't deny the small smile that gradually pulls at my cheek and I look over at him. “What?”

“Shut up,” he murmurs.

“Does he know who you are?” I wonder. “Your family?”

He holds up his hands as if to affirm his honesty. “No. Not at all. This isn't associated with that crew. He doesn't even know my real name.”

“So he knows Nick?”

“No, we don't use names. He knows me as The Doctor,” Noble explains. “He doesn't even know I live in Miami.”

I ponder the alias, remembering he casually called himself that when I met him undercover on a narcotics sting. I want to press him if there's a connection, but I hold back. “So how'd you get in contact with him?”

“A few friends down in Florida, but it's seriously not a big deal. It's not like some gangster black book shit. It's just some regular guys who like to put money on games.”

“Yeah, but Noble that's a slippery slope.”

“I don’t usually  _lose_ \--”

“That's the thing with gambling,” I tell him. “You have to lose eventually. It's the nature of probability.”

“I know.” His shoulders lift defensively. “It's not even like I'm in a jam or anything. I just didn't expect to get hit in the mouth. But otherwise, it's all good.”

I have to laugh a little and I shake my head with a deep sigh. “Noble--”

“I fucked up. I know.”

“You gotta stop. You get mixed up with the wrong crowd and you're done, man.”

“This is why I need you. Ready?” Then he smacks the back of his hand against my stomach and picks up into a jog. “To be my good influence.”

I run beside him and we head further into the cover of trees along the wooded path. “Yeah, well who says I've got time for a bad influence? A  _broke_ -ass bad influence--”

He grips me at the back of my neck and playfully punches a fist against my shoulder before I bound away just out of his reach. “Fucking prick,” he laughs, his shoes pounding the dirt to keep up.

I chuckle as I dart ahead of him. “Alright but listen--” I curve around and face him so that I'm jogging backwards. “I don't want you to hide this kind of stuff from me. I don't want you involved in this at all. I can help you if you need help. But you've got to be honest with me. Got it?”

His pace quickens and he falls in by my side. “Got it.”

“Sucks that you're not used to losing because you're about to lose again right now--” I tease him before I grasp the back of his t-shirt to slow him down and then bolt ahead of him. “Come on.” I turn to glance back at him, picking up my steps as he starts to catch up. “I want to take you out for sushi tonight but you've gotta earn it.”

“Fucker,” I hear him mutter with a laugh just behind me before his steps grow louder as I lead him on the chase.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> M-rating applies for sexual content. ;) I said it'd get there eventually.

“Not gonna lie, man, you gave me a run for my money.” My steps slow as we approach the same entrance of the park where we started and I check my watch. “That trail was six miles. And it only took us like, an hour--”

“Ha!” Noble coughs out a laugh, resting hands on his mess of curls on top of his head. “That’s pretty rough.”

“No, it’s not bad.”

“How long does it usually take you?” He eases to a stop just at the curb and lets his hands fall to his hips.

“In an hour, I do about ten miles--”

His head tips back and the thick flare of his throat when he groans snags my gaze for a moment. “Ugh.”

“It was still good though,” I tell him.

“You’re trying to make me feel better.”

“Maybe.”

He smiles, cutting his gaze over to me. His chest rises and falls again with a deep exhale beneath his navy blue t-shirt before he nods in acceptance. “I was just showing off for you. Don’t get ideas about signing me up for any marathons or anything.”

Glancing down, I laugh softly while I feel in my pocket for my car keys. “So how’d you get here anyway?”

“Car service.” Noble’s modes of transportation in the city were limited considering he no longer had a car here, and the openness of the subway wasn’t such a good idea for him.

“Alright well forget that. I drove.” I slip a finger through my keyring and clasp them in my hand. “I’ll take you home. You staying at the Greenwich Hotel again?”

“Yep.” We head down the block where I had parked my Mustang.

With a teasing smirk, I squint one eye at him as we walk. “Such a high roller.”

“Don’t give me that shit.” He nudges a closed fist against my arm.

Amused, I make my way to the driver’s side before I tell him over the hood of the car, “I really like that place, actually.”

We close ourselves inside and I settle against the leather interior. “Yeah?” He breathes. “You wanna stay and hang out?”

A swell of heat flares in my core at the invitation. I figured we’d spend a good amount of the day together. But the seclusion of his penthouse stirs up different expectations. New possibilities that I had entertained in my head, but figured were off limits if we kept our time together out in public.

Easing my head back against the headrest, I turn to look at him. My loose fist clutches the gearshift at my side where I nervously toggle it for a second before I offer him a nod. “Sure.”

* * *

 

“Hey man, if you need--”

I hear Noble's voice from the hallway outside the guest room as I tug off my t-shirt. But with the bedroom door closed and the water already running in the shower, it drowns out his announcement.

I grasp the door handle and pull it open. “What?”

He stands on the other side, offering a few folded options to wear once I'm done with my shower. A cracked “Um--” rumbles out of him and I don’t miss the measured fall of his gaze. “Just-- clothes. If you… y’know.”

I press my lips together while I look at him. I feel like I'm holding my breath and something in my chest won't let go. “Thanks,” I manage, grasping the hooded sweatshirt and shorts.

“Uh--” He rattles, glancing away as he takes a step back. “Yep.” Then he's quick to turn and head back down the hall toward his room.

My brows twitch, puzzled and amused at whatever it was the both of us just felt in that exchange. Then I peer down, assessing myself in my gym shorts before I laugh softly and step back to close the door.

In the shower, I let the hot water pelt my chest and hang my head as it spills over the back of my neck. The steam surrounds me and I press wet fingers into my eyes before I swipe my hands back through my hair.

Subconsciously, I’m teetering on the edge of acknowledging what’s about to happen between Noble and me. Inside, everything just swoops, rises and falls with possibility and uncertainty and I don’t know what to do.

Over the past several weeks, phone calls and conversations have evolved from casual to suggestive, and sometimes -- on one or two occasions -- downright hot. To the point where, when the back-and-forth ended, I couldn’t stop thinking about him and wound up taking matters into my own hands before I could fall asleep.

I’d think about the way he would talk to me. Like he was on the verge of confessing something he wanted, only to breathe out a whispered  _fuck_ and back out of it instead. I wasn’t as smooth at giving it right back, but enough teasing can lure me into a weak moment.

And for him, I’m getting really damn weak.

I can’t wrap my head around what it is. He's a risk, he can be reckless. He's evasive and his association with criminals alone should be the only red flag I need.

My heart feels restless when I'm with him and it's not a sensation I'm used to. I don't know if it's telling me to get out.

But god, he's charming as hell and beautiful and the way he looks at me could start fires. The way he trusts me, I don't think I deserve.

I think about the morning he kissed me. How I kissed him back because I needed it to click in my head that it was real.

And I’m selfish when it comes to him. Needy and indulgent and possessive, and other shitty qualities that he's able to coax out of me, even if it's unintentional.

With one hand, I lean forward against the slate grey tile of the shower wall and let my forehead fall against it. A breath fills my chest until I feel like it's about to burst and with a heavy exhale, I manage to stand upright and reach for the soap. 

I want him to kiss me again. The desire tugs at me hard and I don't get it. I don't get why I can't shake that urge, why I can't  _outsmart_ it.

Whatever I feel is bigger than myself and that scares the hell out of me.

Before I even realize it, my fist closes around my slick hard-on. It had started to throb with want when he came to my door. The sensation feels too good, and instead of denying the fact that he can get me hard, suppressing it until my arousal abates, my hand starts to work an easy pace.

Maybe if I get off, I'll let go of all this curiosity. I won't feel like the slightest spark between us will consume me. I can relax.   

This complicated knot low in my gut winds itself tighter. I can't even be sure what it is I'm thinking about but I know it's him. Flashes of skilled hands, the heat of his mouth -- those sensations pulse through me.

My fist pumps faster and I imagine that it's him. That he's down on his knees in this shower, sucking me off until I can barely stand up.

I press my other hand against the wet wall. My mouth opens, catching water before it sputters from my lips and I swallow the urgent groan that I have. Noises threaten to escape my chest but I manage to contain them inside a choppy exhale.

I want my hands in his hair when he makes me come. I jerk my fist harder and imagine his own, how it would stroke me to the brink of release. How his eager mouth would match it, how his low moan would vibrate in his throat.

My core tightens and I bite back another sound and it doesn't take long before my breath catches. That twitch deep in my center seizes my muscles and with another few rhythmic jerks, I come into my other hand.

With eyes so tightly closed, it takes a moment for the glowing dots on black to fade. I eventually unwind and find the breath I so badly needed.

Tipping my head back into the hot water that rains down, I blink hard and wonder if that settled my mind at all. I finish up my shower -- by actually showering -- quickly wash my hair, and manage to get out, with no idea how long I spent in there.

I had hoped that little moment of release would put the flames out. But it merely stoked them. And what swirls inside me is this stormy combination of guilt and arousal that’s probably about to manifest itself in a way that will ruin me.


	6. Chapter 6

When I emerge from the guest bedroom, feeling at ease in Noble’s slightly too big hooded sweatshirt and a soft pair of jogging shorts, the penthouse is quiet.

I expect to find him in the living room, relaxing in front of the TV or maybe in the kitchen. I make my way around the corner and peer out into the expansive space, but he's not there.

And then I hear his voice. He's having some sort of conversation near the other end of the apartment and I pause before I follow the source, down the hall toward his bedroom.

“No, I don't think so,” I hear him say. “How about you leave it until I can get there and take a look? … Because you need to shut off the water first….. No, that's different--” He goes on and I can't help lean into the doorway, just to let him know I'm out of the shower.

I see him sitting on his bed, talking on the phone and he offers a quick nod when he sees me. Holding his hand out, he motions for me to come in, but he continues his conversation.

“The water valve shut off is different from just turning off the faucet. You start unscrewing pipes and shit, you're gonna flood your apartment.”

I slide my hands in the pockets of my shorts and come closer to the bed, a curious slant to my brow at whatever's happening on the other end of this call.

“Yes. Tomorrow. I promise,” he says as he glances up at me, then averts his gaze. “Okay. Love you too. Bye.”

Ending the call, he lets out a heavy sigh. “That was my sister.”

A faint smile tugs at my cheek at the memory of Bianca. His sister made that undercover assignment interesting, to say the least, and it's nice to hear that she and Noble still lean on each other.

“Oh yeah? How's she?”

He tosses his phone aside and adjusts on the bed. His hair is damp from his shower and he wears a clean version of what he had on before -- another soft, well-fitting t-shirt and gym shorts. “Her shower head is leaky,” he informs me, blowing out a soft laugh. “That's all. It can wait.”

“You fix stuff like that?”

“What, I'm not entirely helpless,” he contends as he props himself back on his hands.

I feel the smirk curve along my face. “You strike me as the type to call a guy for that.”

“Not so much these days.” His shoulder lifts in a lazy shrug. “You get your ass booted out of town to start a new life and you learn some stuff.”

I nod in appreciation and notice the few seconds he takes to run his gaze over me in his clothes.

“So does she know you and I talk?” I wonder.

He shakes his head. “No. I haven't told anybody.”

I haven't told anybody in my family about him either and for a moment, a flicker of sadness sinks through me at that realization.

“Besides,” he adds, “she'd probably want your number if she knew.”

I laugh softly. “Man, you were pissed when you found out I kissed her.”

His lips twist, fending off a smile. But he glances down as he seems to recall his own reaction to us and one breaks through anyway. “Hey, she's my sister,” he attempts, but his argument, and the look on his face fail to convince me.

My gaze narrows with a skeptical nod. Another step and my legs hit the edge of the bed until one knee slides onto the comforter and I kneel there beside him. “Uh-huh,” I hum.

He looks up at me, a playful flash of green shines in his eyes, his features warmed by the early afternoon sun through his window. “I didn't have feelings for Jimmy Riordan if that's what you're getting at.”

Heavy, I fall across the bed, turning to land relaxed on my back. “I hope not,” I tell him, slipping my hands beneath my head. “He's not real.”

“Alright, so maybe I had a little bit of a crush on Jimmy. Damn.” His shoulders lift defensively.

A lazy chuckle rumbles in my chest.

“He broke my heart, it's fine,” Noble teases, and my amusement flares deep, this warmth spreading through me.

“Yeah, I grew sort of attached to you,” I confess. “I won't lie.”

From where he sits, he peers down at me before blowing out a laugh of his own. He shoves one hand on the side of my bent knee, rocking it side to side.

I watch him chew the inside of his cheek in thought before his hand turns to a fist and he taps it once against my knee. “You know… I've never… wanted anybody who’s dated my sister before.”

A tightening starts at the corner of my jaw and sinks lower, down my throat. He knows I didn't date Bianca, but that's not the piece of information I focus on.  _Fuck_ , this spiraling freefall in my ribcage won't quit, and the word  _want_ makes it worse.

“I've never…” My tongue passes over my bottom lip and I turn my head to look at him before I find my voice. “...wanted anybody my sister dated either.” I echo the confession and while my version doesn't make any sense, it's like an understood, vague admission that neither one of us has been interested in a guy before.

He laughs softly, pondering that with a slanted brow.

“No, I mean--” I attempt to clarify.

“I think I know what you mean.”

I have to laugh at myself and I move one hand to press into my eye where I rub hard. “I think… I think we just experienced some intense shit together last year. And it… I don’t know. We kind of bonded over it.”

Noble considers this explanation with a faint nod.

Offering a half shrug, I redirect my gaze up to the ceiling. “That’s me trying to rationalize this.”

Scratching the back of his head, he finally manages a noisy, deep breath before he adjusts on the bed. “Well I’m about to rationalize this nap I’m going to take.” He turns and stretches across the bed next to me on his stomach. He buries his face in the crook of his arm, mumbling, “I try to act like I can run six miles like it’s no big deal but really I’m not cut out for that life.”

A smile pulls at my cheek and I look over at him at my side. Deep breaths rise and fall along the solid width of his back, but after a beat, his eyes open and he peers out at me from underneath gold flecked eyelashes, innocent lines drawn along his forehead.

Laughing softly, I ease myself up to a sitting position. “Alright. Take a nap,” I tell him, letting a hand fall, my palm coasts along the muscular plane of his back. “Text me later.”

His words are muffled when he protests. “Don’t go.”

I glance down at him, my throat clenching with another hard swallow. I haven’t taken my hand off him, and instead, I slide it back up, between his shoulderblades. “Dude, I couldn’t take a nap right now if I tried.”

I hear a shaky breath escape him when the edge of my thumb presses across the tense knot in the middle of his back. “So how about we don’t fucking nap.” His raspy voice seeps inside of me, smooth and hypnotic, and his words alone -- that he merely murmurs into the bend in his arm -- nearly make me hard.

I hesitate, afraid to let go even though my body begs for it. The weight of my palm pushes up his back once more and he lets out another soft, appreciative moan.

“Your hands are cruel, Jamie. My  _god_ ,” he whispers, turning his face into the comforter. “Whenever you touch me, it’s like--  _fuck_.” He trails off with a hot exhale.

I’m sort of fascinated watching his breath catch as my hand trails firm paths over his shirt. I feel the corner of my mouth twitch in a smirk despite my heart about to pound out of my chest. “What would we do if we didn’t take a nap?”

Shifting over to his side, he reaches out and tugs me down by the front of my sweatshirt and I fall beside him. His mouth sears mine, scorching, but still. Pausing there, savoring a kiss that could end any second, he gradually releases my bottom lip, then lets a whisper of faltering breath ghost between us before he captures it again.


	7. Chapter 7

If my hands are cruel, so is his mouth. 

The way it lures me in, soft and controlled, like I’m free to abandon it at any time. But I couldn’t. He feels too perfect and I can’t even think clearly enough to attempt to take over. 

As we lay on our sides, one hand goes to the side of his face and I hold the edge of his jaw as my kiss eases away. I open my eyes to see his still closed and his forehead falls to mine. 

“What about this?” I murmur, my thumb stroking just beneath his lower lip at the scar that remains from the night before.

“What?” He breathes. 

“This.” I touch it again, then drag the tip of my thumb across his lip. “Does it hurt?”

His lips part and he gently closes his teeth on my knuckle. Watching him, it takes way too long for the breath that gets stuck in my chest to escape. And when it does, it's noisier than I mean for it to be.

Playfully, his teeth scrape my thumb and then release it before he answers me. “No, it doesn't hurt.”

My gaze catches his and I exhale a soft laugh. Rolling myself toward him, I duck my head against his chest and let out this weak, amused groan. “What the fuck are we doing?” I mumble into the soft fabric of his t-shirt.

He laughs too, seeming to wonder the same thing. Then he reaches for the hood on the back of my sweatshirt and tugs it up over my head. His hand slides it all the way forward until it covers my eyes and he burrows his face against mine. 

Leaning in, his words buzz across the underside of my jaw. “Why are you this fucking cute? It's a problem.”

His breath on my neck makes my pulse jump. “So this is my fault?” 

He moves to look at me, pushing the hood back a little. But this close, it's like he hides inside the fabric with me. His head bobs with a slight nod. “It's all your fault,” he murmurs, nudging himself closer to me. “I'm just laying here trying to take a nap.”

“Oh my god,” I groan. My knee sneaks on top of his. When I attempt a deep breath, my chest expands against him, his stomach grazes mine. I reach down, my touch skating his side before I push my hand just under the hem of his t-shirt. “Fine, take your damn nap.”

The bass of his voice hums when he lets out a heavy breath. “Alright I take back the cute thing,” he complains, but his leg slides in between mine. “You’re gross.”

“I’ll bite that damn lip, watch out.” With an unintentional rock of my hips, my hand trails his lower back and I pull him closer. 

A soft hum sounds in his throat and his lips skim mine. “Promise?” He asks just before we give into one another again. 

Patient kisses unravel as the both of us start to let go. His weight sinks against me, urging me onto my back where he follows. 

The teasing dip of his tongue gets a breathy groan out of me. His hands in my hair, my hands running up his back, the two of us quickly go from faint grazes of lips to heated, bruising kisses. Shaky hot breaths barely escape in between them.

I'm somewhere completely different. I just feel him all around me but I've lost all concept of where I am, who he is, who I am. 

Every soft groan of his that echoes in his throat makes my dick throb. I'm hard against the idle -- but definitely intentional -- friction of his thigh. 

It goes on like that for I don't know how long. Until my lips sting, tingling with a hot pulse every time Noble slips away. His face tips down and he pauses against the ridge of my jaw.

I tilt my head back to suck in some air and notice how it catches in my chest. 

“I mean, when I said  _ stay and hang out _ ...” His voice rasps along my chin.

I look at him, propped halfway over me, the playful twitch at his cheek before he finishes, “I swear I wasn't trying to like, get a piece.”

Pushing back against the pillow, I cough out a laugh toward the ceiling. “No? Well  _ I _ was, so--”

His face falls to my chest where a low chuckle rumbles and it feels good. He rests there and turns his gaze to me. “I thought you were taking me out for sushi. What the hell, man?”

“It's like--”  I tip my head back and around, looking for a clock. “Not even noon. You eat sushi this early?”

“It's--” And then he shifts up, reaching across me for the phone he abandoned earlier and checks it. “One-thirty.”

“Wait, what?” My brow furrows and I blink hard. It's such an odd sensation, feeling this disoriented about how long we've been at this. “How?”

He laughs and eases back, but this time, crawls over me on his hands and knees. “Well the Earth rotates and--”

I squeeze his side and he flinches, coming down on top of me. 

“That's how time works,” he laughs into my neck.

“It's a good thing you're hot because you're a real asshole.”

“I'm loveable as hell, dude.” I feel him smile as he drags the tip of his nose across my cheek and murmurs, “You smell good.”

Turning, I meet his lips briefly, tasting him once. “I probably smell like  _ you _ . I'm wearing your clothes and showered at your apartment.”

“That's probably it.  _ Fuck _ , I smell good.”  He kisses me again. “How do you resist me?” And then his hips meet mine and it feels way too damn good. His weight sinking into me, the brush of his hard-on against my inner thigh.

Biting into my smiling lip, a soft moan escapes me. “Obviously, I can't.” I urge myself against him as his mouth heats mine once more. 

I have this ragged  _ want _ in the pit of my stomach to be closer to him, for these clothes to be gone. My pulse is restless, impatient and the way he buries these breathy groans in my mouth is getting me way too fucking worked up. 

My hands are curious enough as it is. With Noble on top of me, I can't help push my hands beneath his shirt, across the taut arch of his back, then down lower where I pull him against me. 

When I do, his exhales grow more urgent. He kisses me harder and I tug him closer, palming the curve of his ass over his shorts.

Grinding his hips, he makes sparks shoot off deep in my core. I'm so goddamn hard, I can't think.

With a loud, decisive growl, he collapses, tearing his mouth away. “Alright” he manages, letting his head rest against my shoulder for a heavy breath. “This is where I draw the line on just two bros hanging out.”

A laugh sputters in my throat and I crack up just beneath him. My chest rises and falls, my breath chasing my heartbeat. I clear my throat and run a hand over my tingling mouth. “Yeah, okay bro.”

“Like I seriously need to stop and probably go--” He shifts off of me and slowly sits up, running palms up his face and through his hair. “--Run another six miles. Or take another shower.”

The corner of my lips quirk upward and I manage to sit up beside him. Glancing over, I catch his eye and both of us shake our heads in amusement and reluctantly make our way to the edge of the bed.

“So how about this,” I propose. “I head out. And you… y’know, recover from that run.”

He sniffs a soft laugh and nods. “Right.”

I drop a hard pat on his leg and stand up before I hold my hand out to him. “And then tonight, dinner?” 

His palm meets mine with a loud clap. “I'm all yours.”

As I turn toward his door, I reach up to drag fingers through my messy hair and grin back at him. “Maybe you should take that nap.” 


	8. Chapter 8

If I just keep moving forward, maybe none of this will catch up to me.

Any time I stop to consider what the fuck I'm getting myself into, I force it out of my thoughts and move. Cleaning my apartment, another shower, clothes to put away. I glance over at Noble's hooded sweatshirt, a plain granite grey, where it lays on my bed. I could wash it and bring it back. But I selfishly don't want to and I find other things to do.

Reminders of Noble sneak up on me anyway, despite my best efforts to move past them. I'll swallow and a hint of the way he tastes will momentarily surround my senses. My heartbeat will jump at a random memory of his voice, his low whispers against my lips.

But he leaves tomorrow. So I'll let the conflict, the guilt, settle inside me then, and in the meantime, allow myself to exist in this magnetic pull I've never felt before.

After a few back-and-forth texts to confirm dinner plans where Noble lets me know I can come over anytime, I finish getting dressed. Jeans and well-fitting Henley that I try to tell myself is just a casual, random pick but really every time I wear it, its deep sea green color earns me a compliment from someone. Subconsciously, I know that influences my choice. There's something addictive about the way Noble looks at me and I'd be lying if I said I didn't try to provoke it.

I remind myself we're just going to eat dinner as I tug my sleeves up my forearms. I feel too jumpy to care about eating but the idea of getting out in public with him turns those nerves into something alive. After I'm ready, I head out, prompted by the thrill of anticipation.

***

“Ah, fuck me. It's a cop,” Noble gripes just after he pulls open the door to his penthouse. “I didn't do it. I'm innocent.”

I slide my hands into the pockets of my jeans as I wait on the other side. “Hm. That's always convincing.”

“You can search me, I'll cooperate.”

“Don't even start.” I laugh at him with a shake of my head.

The pull of his smile yanks in my chest. The first time I'm seeing him in something that's not gym clothes in a while has me appreciative of how unequivocally good-looking he is. “You look very preppy tonight,” I muse, rocking a step back.

He reaches behind him to pull the door closed, glancing down at his own navy and white checked button down, its sleeves cuffed and pushed to his elbows on pale, slate grey chinos. “Yeah?”

“Like a hot college professor.”

“Nice.” A grin lights up his face and we turn to head toward the elevator. “Maybe that's not a good look for downtown, though.”

“No, I like it.”

He arches an eyebrow in my direction as he slaps the button to go down. Immediately, the elevator doors open. “You have some college professor fetish?”

I laugh down to the floor as I hang my head. “I don't know. Maybe I do now.”

Noble lets out this weary groan as if he's tempted to comment on that but he won't let himself as he steps into the elevator behind me.

“What would be your course?” I wonder.

“My course?”

“Yeah, if you taught a college-level course, what would it be?”

He slips his hands into his pants pockets and leans a shoulder against the wall. “Well considering I slept through seventy-five percent of college, I don't know if I'd qualify--”

“No,” I feign serious dismay. “Not you.”

The line across his brow as he shifts his gaze to me is cute as hell and in the confines of the elevator, makes my heart beat fast. He lets a curvy smirk idle on his face. “Okay. I would probably teach… some sort of wine appreciation class where we get drunk and watch shitty horror movies.”

My head tips back in amusement as the elevator slows at the ground floor. “What would be the requirements of the course?” The doors open and we make our way through the lobby before heading out the door.

“You bring a crappy wine--” he explains. “-- **F**. You bring a  _good_ wine and a well-selected crappy movie-- **A-plus**.”

“Oh damn,” I muse. “That's intense.”

“Yeah, you gonna take my class?”

“For sure.”

“Alright, so what would you turn in?”

I ponder it over a long inhale, swinging my arms in front of me as we make our way down Greenwich Avenue. The city takes on a different energy at night, one that I don't get to appreciate if I'm working. I feel the beginnings of fall brisk in my chest and it’s good to be out in the glow of lower Manhattan. “I get one assignment?”

“You get one chance. Final project.”

“Alright.” I clap. “I'd submit… maybe like a Pinot Noir. And  _The Shining_.”

Noble's head drops and he pushes his hand against his chest as if he just got punched and lost all his air. “No,” he insists. “You bring that California shit to my class and you're done--”

“What?” I cry.

“Also, _The Shining_  is just a good movie,” he reasons. “Which wasn't the assignment. So consider your GPA wrecked. See me during office hours.”

“Dammit.” Amused and my cheek pulling up with a smile, I shake my head as I walk beside him. “Okay wait, let me retake the class.”

“You're gonna have to.”

“A Malbec--” I point, and Noble's intrigued eyebrow slides up as he looks over at me, waiting for the rest. “And  _Evil Dead_.”

This satisfied groan rumbles in his chest. “Fuck me, Jamie.”

The sentiment, coming from him, swirls in my core. I laugh as I turn to glance at him. “Better?”

“A-plus.” He lifts one hand and I hold mine out down low before he drops his palm there in a hard clap of appreciation. “Damn, you're my best student. I'm really impressed with your work.”

His fingers slide through mine before our hands drift apart and the simple, passing moment makes my pulse feel hot.

“Well sucking up to the teacher is definitely my sweet spot,” I tell him. “I won't lie.”

Noble coughs out this loud laugh. “Let me tell you how little that surprises me. I'm into it, though.”

I merely shift my gaze to him and try to ease the smirk that I have. “We're going over here.” I point down the cross street. “Are you good with hanging around Tribeca? This sushi place is pretty lowkey.”

“Yeah, that's probably smart. I like to think I'm fairly under the radar in this neighborhood.”

“Alright good.” I make my way to the door of Takahachi and grasp the handle. “You sense any trouble, you let me know.”

As I tug open the door, I step back to let him pass through first. I see him dig his teeth across his lower lip before his eyebrows jump. “This is playing out like a very specific cop fantasy I have--”

I reach out and shove a hand against his shoulder and I hiss a breathy laugh. “Save it,” I mutter, biting down on a smile before I follow into the restaurant behind him.


	9. Chapter 9

“Make me feel like asshole.” Noble scrunches his nose at my order of water while he had ordered a beer just before the server walks away.

“I'm just covering my ass in the off-chance anything happens.”

He furrows his brow in confusion. “What kind of anything?”

“In case I have to be your bodyguard.” I shrug.

He hisses a soft laugh and shakes his head. “What, in case you have to shoot someone, you won't be under the influence?”

“Exactly.”

“Is that for real? Like you can't ever have a drink when you go out in case you have to like, stop a bank robbery?”

“No, I can,” I contend. “But there's always an off-chance. And with  _you_ … you never know. I mean, we haven't exactly been out in the city together since last year.”

“Alright. So let's say we're walking back to my place and someone around the corner gets held up at gunpoint. Are you obligated to intervene?”

“Of course.”

“Even though you're not on duty.”

“Right. In fact if I  _didn't_ , I could lose my shield.”

Noble ponders it a moment over a slow nod.

I quirk a teasing eyebrow. “Who says I'm going back to your place?”

He blows out this rush of air as if it hurts. “Oh man.”

A smile twitches at my lips and I have to laugh as his playful gaze wordlessly meets mine before our drinks are set in front of us.

We go to work marking down our respective sushi requests on the paper lists provided, agreeing on and refuting several different choices. Once we pass them off to the roving server, Noble excuses himself, easing his chair away.

“Be right back.” He slips past me, headed toward the restrooms at the back of the restaurant.

Absently, I shift a few things around on the table and settle back in my chair. There’s a mellow hum of people paired off throughout the small dining area with its dim lamp light and overhead skylight that make the room glow. And I can’t help but wonder the perception anyone would have of the two of us.

Do we look like two people on a date? I hadn’t really thought about it. Truly, it doesn’t matter to me. But it’s sort of unclear what all this is anyway.

My phone lights up on the table in front of me and I open the message while I wait.

> **Noble:** _You’re such a damn tease and I’m really fucking into it._

_Shit_. The heat in my chest flares and I lean back, glancing around the room. Quickly I darken my phone, then slide a hand over my mouth, dragging it across restless lips. He’s going to ruin me, I can feel myself starting to fall apart. It's like my nerves are buzzing so hard, they're about to shatter.

Before I can consider responding, he’s back. “So now I wanna know what made you decide to become a cop.” He wonders, just picking up where we left off.

I clear my throat and set my gaze on him, the threat of a smile at the corner of my lips.

He mirrors the look. “What?”

I simply shake my head and reach for my water. I’d have to settle up with that accusation later. “Being a cop is sort of the family business.”

“Ah ha.”

“So. My grandfather, my dad,” I tell him. “Both my brothers.”

“Jeez,” he exhales a laugh, blinking hard. “That’s not intimidating or anything.”

I shrug while I consider it. “You know about being part of a family business.”

“Oh yeah, it’s really the same,” he scoffs. “The question is would you have to assume a new identity if you went against your family?”

“Probably.” A smile pulls at my cheek.

He looks at me, seeming to ponder a moment what exactly that means before he glances down, turning his beer on the table.

“I was almost a lawyer.”

Letting out a soft laugh, he glances up once more. “What's  _almost_ a lawyer?”

“Graduated law school. Worked as an associate in private practice. Then when my brother was killed,” I recount, pausing a moment where I press my lips together. “You know, he was a detective--”

Noble nods. I'd mentioned Joe to him before in one of our phone calls.

“I don't know. I felt like I had a different purpose.”

Letting my answer sit there, he picks up his beer bottle and tips it to his lips. He has these moody green eyes that soften when he looks at me as he swallows hard. “I think it's rare that people feel that connected to their jobs.”

“I think you're right. Sometimes it's a curse.” I manage a sideways smile. “Sometimes it's a good thing.”

With a heavy sigh, he glances away, as if he needs to break eye contact, and scratches a hand through his wavy hair. “Alright, I can't deal with this. Because you're starting to make me feel things and I  _hate_ that.”

I adjust back in my chair, arching a critical brow. “Yeah that's disgusting.”

“I don't think I knew you went to law school. That sucks.”

I laugh into my water glass at that reaction. “I agree.”

“I wouldn't have guessed you're that smart--”

Underneath the table, my leg knocks hard against the inside of his knee eyeing him over the rim of my glass. “You don't have to be smart to go to law school.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“So that's the becoming a cop story.”

Noble chews lightly on his lower lip, something almost wistful in those damn eyes of his. “And then you got an undercover assignment and met this…  _gorgeous_ lost soul who came into your life, and made all sorts of trouble--”

I feel my gaze flick to that bottom lip and I try to deny a smile. “Is that right?”

“I'm talking about Bianca.” He smirks.

My head tilts as if I'm considering it and I reach for my water once more. “I mean, she's alright. But her brother's the one I wanna go home with tonight.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Look at that.” I tease Noble with a sideways glance as we stand at his door. “We walked five whole blocks and nobody tried to kill you.”

He looks at me over his shoulder and keys into the penthouse. “That's because I had  _you_ with me. Who's gonna fuck with me when I've got John McClane over here to save me?”

“John McClane’s a detective.”

“Whatever. You're a badass.”

“Not quite,” I laugh. “But I’ll let you think that.” I make my way to his kitchen counter and set the bag containing a six-pack of beer we picked up on the way home.

Noble turns toward the hallway on his way to the bedroom. “Alright. You need something to wear?” He calls out.

On our walk back, we had decided we'd get changed and go swimming in the hotel’s pool -- the same scene as his party not too long ago one where I'd been called for a noise complaint. In my head, it's a smart idea considering I'm way too tempted to just get back in his bed and I need a distraction to shake that urge.

Before I head to the guest bedroom, he offers me a pair of grey and white swim trunks and a spare t-shirt.

“Dude.” I hold up the plain loaners. “All this time in Miami, and you don't have multiple pairs of neon shorts. What is this?”

“Oh I do. You want my blue and pink shorts with flamingos on them?”

I feel one eyebrow jump. “No, but I definitely want  _you_ to wear those.”

As he backs away to his room, he lets out a loud laugh. “You got it, friend.”

***

Once we’re ready, we head back down, padding across the vaguely familiar maze of hallways, until we pass through the heavy glass doors.

“Hey this pool is sweet when there aren't a hundred kids in here acting like idiots,” I note as we cross to a set of chairs.

The enclosed room glows with dim, pinkish lights and the crisp turquoise water of the pool, illuminated from underneath. Across the way, I spot one couple, an older man and woman tucked away in shadow near the stairs, wading around one another. Still, it feels secluded and the mood it elicits is instantaneous.

“That was a good night, alright?” Noble insists. “I'm pretty happy where it got me.” He sets the pack of beer on a small wooden table. Then reaching up, he tugs his white t-shirt off and tosses it on a nearby cushioned lounge chair.

I hate that my eyes linger way too long on his chest, on the way the curve of his triceps flexes when he stretches. The way the waist of those stupid shorts sit low on his hips, intersecting the defined lines of his abdomen.

I press my lips together until it hurts, yanking me from my daze. “You’re lucky the cop who showed up wasn’t a dick.”

“He was hot as hell. I gotta call that guy.” The tip of his tongue grazes the ridge of his teeth. “Vinny something--”

Teasingly, I narrow my gaze at him for that remark, but my attention is pulled away when I glance past Noble's shoulder to see a young woman approach.

“Mister Salcedo, good evening.”

Her sleek dark hair is pulled up in a ponytail, and she wears a tailored black dress, her name glinting back at us on the silver plate pinned there.

Noble turns and offers one of his bright smiles. “Nina, how are you?”

“I'm well, thank you.” The click of her heels echo on concrete as she passes between us to set two large towels on the lounge chair.

“This is my friend Jamie.” He introduces. “Jamie, Nina. Nina’s the best. The Greenwich would fall apart without her.”

“Great to meet you,” I offer, grasping her hand in a handshake.

“Welcome, Jamie.” She grins. “Are you two getting into trouble tonight?”

Noble scoffs, a line drawn between his brows. “Do we look like troublemakers?”

One corner of her lips merely tugs up in a smirk and her dark eyes flash back at him. “Is there anything I can do for you gentlemen?”

He looks at me as if to ask if I have any requests and I answer with a faint shake my head.

“You know what Jamie made me do this morning?” He turns back to Nina.

She occupies herself adjusting the chairs where we stand and unrolls an oversized towel across each one. “What did he make you do?”

“Run the six-mile trail at Van Cortlandt Park.”

Her mouth opens in amusement and she glances over at me. “Oh, you're kidding. What I wouldn't give to witness that.”

“He hung in there,” I tell her. “I was proud of him.”

Noble's cheek stretches up with a smile when he looks at me but he shakes his head. “He's full of it. I was a disaster.”

She laughs. “Well you're still in one piece so I'd say you did okay.” Walking around, she goes to a nearby wall and looks up as she adjusts a knob, effectively darkening the surrounding lights. “Would you like me to make a spa reservation for a massage tomorrow afternoon before you check out?”

“I would love that.” Noble's eyes light up.

“I'll be happy to take care of that for you.”

My head tips back and I make a show of rolling my eyes at my smug friend.

“I can make an appointment for your guest as well.” Nina turns to me with her offer.

“No. Thank you,” I answer. “Some of us can run six miles without needing medical attention--”

Noble's fist juts out to pound my shoulder. I chuckle, flinching away and reciprocate the punch with a light jab in his stomach.

“He's too good for that,” Noble says. “But I'm not.”

“I'll leave a confirmation under your door in the morning. And I'd be happy to put your beers on ice so that you can keep them cold in here.”

“See, you do things like this and then you expect me to leave tomorrow.”

It's like he's compelled to be that charming, that shiny eye contact, the dimple in his chin -- awfully irresistible but also makes me want to kick his ass.  

Setting two bottles from the pack on the table for us, she smiles up at him as she takes the rest. “Because I want you to come back.” She baits him over her shoulder before she turns and heads for the door. “I'll return shortly.”

When Nina’s out of sight, my mouth opens with this disapproving face I can't help but make, and a breathy laugh escapes me.

Noble reaches for the beers, twisting the caps off before he passes me one. “What?” He fakes innocence.

“Damn, Nick. How do you survive in Miami without hotel staff to hit on? You probably have to get your own ice.”

“Hey, I wasn't hitting on her.”

I nod, quirking an eyebrow in disbelief before I tip my beer to my lips to hide my amusement.

“When I hit on someone, I make it pretty clear.”

“Yeah? You'll have to teach me, then, because I don't feel like that's one of my gifts.” Leaning down, I set my beer within reach of the edge of the pool, then I grasp the back of my t-shirt and pull it off. “Are we getting in?”

I don't miss his pause, eyes cutting over to me around his glass bottle as he tilts it. He manages a hard gulp. “Mm-hm.”

“You want to invite her to join us?”

Angling his head with a slight shake, his gaze wanders lower. It takes a tell-tale few seconds too long for him to realize he’s supposed to answer. “Who?”

It's as if I can feel the path a look from him blazes, heating in my chest, then sinking through me. I'm on the verge of getting hard purely from his unspoken intentions.

My lips twitch and I exhale a soft laugh at his vacant response.

He blinks his realization. “Oh,” he utters. “No, I don’t.”

Satisfied with that, I make my way to the edge of the pool, bend down to prop my hand on the ledge before I drop into the water. “Alright then, get in.”


	11. Chapter 11

“Dude, you've got the life here, don't you?” I wonder.

Lazily, I push myself back through the water where we bob above the surface around each other. It didn't take Nina long to return with a chilled metal bucket packed with the other four beers on ice. She had simply left it at the edge of the pool for us and made her way out. “With your spa appointments and your cold beer service.”

“It's not like this is my  _life_ ,” he reasons. “I leave tomorrow.”

“If you could have it, though. Is this the life you'd want?”

“What, like… poor little rich boy in the penthouse with no one to talk to but the people who work here? That was my reality for the past year before I ran into you.”

“There were all sorts of people here with you that one night. Including the girl whose dad owns this place. She seemed friendly enough--”

He quirks an eyebrow at me. “That girl is like, nineteen and she's awful.”

I laugh. “You're such an old man.”

“I am.” He smiles. Wading through the water, he floats to the edge to grasp his beer. “Which is why I need my afternoon massage. Don't judge me.”

“I've never had a massage.”

He props himself back along the pool ledge, resting his head there. “No?”

“Not a real one. Like a professional--”

As he sets his beer down, he flicks his head, motioning for me to come closer. “Give me your hand.”

I let the water carry me over to him but I have to pinch my brow together in amused curiosity. “Are you a professional?”

He nods. “Mm-hm.”

With my palm up, I hold out my hand, skimming the water between us. “I'm not paying you for anything.”

“Fair enough. You did pay for dinner.”

“I did.” I watch him grasp my hand and he smoothly drags his thumb across my palm. “But last time you were here, you cooked,” I remind him.

Idly, he strokes a circle along the lower muscle in my hand, then harder. “Okay, well how about we don't keep score?”

“I'm good with that.”

“What's this?” He peers down at my hand, his touch skimming the slightly crooked path of my pinky finger.

“I broke it playing basketball when I was like, eleven. And didn't tell anybody.”

He lets out a soft laugh, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I thought you were going to say some sort of cool cop injury.”

“No, but I have plenty of those,” I murmur. I wade a little closer and glance down with him.

“As a cop, what's the scariest thing that's ever happened to you?”

“Scariest?”

“Yeah. Like where you were genuinely afraid?” He's still playing with my hand, dragging fingertips, tracing the lines of my palm. Absently threading his fingers through mine, our hands sink beneath the surface. “Or do you just manage to keep it together no matter what? Nothing fazes you.”

I know the answer to that but he probably doesn't. He doesn't know how it affected me when I found out he'd been shot, when I knew there existed a  _plan_ to kill him and I couldn't stop it.

My gaze lifts to meet his. “It's all part of the job.”

Chewing on his lip for a quiet moment, he nods. “So you keep it together all the time.”

“There was a stretch of about a day where I thought you might be dead. Last year. That was pretty fucking scary.”

His brows draw together slightly.

“I knew there was a hit out on you. But I had no other information and I couldn't reach out to you,” I recall, pausing for a moment to glance down before I exhale a soft laugh. “I was kind of a mess. I got drunk at my dad's house, I couldn't sleep--”

“What?” Noble coughs out a laugh. “Are you serious?”

“I couldn't deal with knowing it was out there and basically getting my hand slapped for wanting to protect you. Then when I managed to get ahold of you, it was too late.”

Confusion and realization flicker golden in his eyes. He grasps the hand of mine that he's holding under the water and guides me closer.

My gaze falls to his left shoulder. I hadn't noticed it until I looked for it. The smooth, almost shiny scar that remained -- it's small, lighter than the surrounding olive hued skin.

“I don't know…” I continue. “Why I was so tormented by it all.” With my other hand, I reach up and just barely skim the mark with the side of my index finger. “Something about me being this  _lie_ while you… were never anything but genuine.”

“You weren't a lie, you had an assignment.”

“Never to get you hurt, though.”

“I enabled that world. I set myself up. You didn't get me hurt.”

“I did, though.”

“I'm alive because of you, Jamie.”

I look at him, the way the water moves around him and the lights reflect there, dancing across sunkissed skin.

“That was the last thing you said to me before I left New York,” he reminds me with a smirk. “So I haven't forgotten.”

I sniff a soft laugh. “I was just over that whole case. I felt like I fucked up, like I wasn't the guy for it.”

“It was just my shoulder.” He shrugs. “I'm right handed anyway. So I can still pass a football. My bowling skills are impeccable--”

“You'd lose to me in a push-up contest, but it's alright. You can't win everything.”

“Get out of here. I don't want your damn crooked pinky finger anyway.” His smile is so achingly cute. And I have this unrelenting urge to kiss him. To kiss his shoulder, as if I'd be redeemed for the pain that used to be there, but I hold back. 

I know those people are still in the pool somewhere behind me. I tell myself anything we're doing is discreet enough, hidden or not noticeable enough for them to see or care. But I'm probably wrong.

“Does the NYPD know about your finger?” He teases. “I can't believe they let you be a cop.”

“Shut up.”

“You said you have plenty of cop injuries. Where? Let me see.”

My eyebrow jumps. “No, you'll have to find them.”

He heaves a hot, surprised exhale and lifts his gaze to me. “Fuck you,” he whispers. “I want you so bad.”

I press my lips together. My pulse beats there. It's like my heart is pounding everywhere for him. But I cut my gaze to the side as if to remind him of the company we have behind me at the other end of the pool.

He follows the look and scrunches his nose, disappointed. “Go arrest them. For being lame.”

Amused, I simply look at him, tempted by the curve of his wet bottom lip.

He lifts my hand from the water again and continues his idle hand massage. The way he presses into the palm of my hand unwinds me in corners I didn't realize were tense. When he rubs one particularly receptive spot, his thumb lying into the heel of my hand, it makes my head start to tip back. “Ah damn,” I sigh.

“See, you could come with me tomorrow and just lay there while someone does this all you want.” He slides his fingers through mine, then drags the pressure of his thumb down to my wrist.

“I think I just want  _you_ to do it,” I mutter. “Why does that feel so good?”

A low laugh rumbles in his chest, growing until he cracks up. I feel the smile stretch across my face as the tease of my honest question settles in my mind.

He lets his head fall, looming closer. “This wasn't what I imagined I'd be doing the first time you said that to me--”

I squeeze my hand around his and nearly choke as my mouth opens and nothing but a cough of stunned air escapes.

He shoves a wave of water at me and I push away, duck underneath and dart further back to the other side of the pool.

When I come up, the laughter finally makes its way out. “Oh my god.” I practically cackle this loud laugh and swipe my hand through wet hair, then brush the water off my face.

Noble dips beneath the surface and pops back up, joining me as we move across the water. “I'm calling the cops on you. Noise complaint.”

“Shhh--” I shush him even though I'm the one being loud. Eventually our laughter dwindles and we linger along the edge at the other side.

“You're making our friends leave.” His voice is quiet and he bobs his chin toward the far end of the pool.

With my back to that side, I just look at Noble, an eager flash in my eyes. “Are they leaving?”

He nods slowly.

I nod with him and casually hope that my heart doesn't explode from the anticipation of being alone with him.

Those people were like our buffer, annoying but probably the only thing keeping my mouth off his. Once I give in to that again, I can't be certain I'd stop. My stomach hurts I'm so turned on by him.

I drag a hand down my wet face and my voice is low when I ask him, “So what was it you had imagined?”

“What do you mean?”

“When I asked  _why does that feel so good_ \--”

“I'm not telling.”

“What kinds of things have you been imagining?”

“Secret things.”

A smile threatens my lips as I feel one eyebrow tug upward. “Dude. Tell me.”

“What if I'm the only one who's been imagining things? Then I'll feel lame.”

I have to laugh as I see his gaze drawn over my shoulder. I reach out for the waist of his shorts and bob closer to him, gently slipping my thumb beneath the elastic at his hip. “Fine. Keep your secrets.”

“If these people don't  _fucking_ leave, Jamie--” he mutters.

Sinking toward him, my hips collide with his. “Are they gone?”

“No.”

“Are they gone?” My heavy gaze falls to his mouth.

“I'm about five seconds from not giving a fuck.”

“Damn five seconds,” I murmur the words at the edge of his jaw. “You're better than me.”

And then my lips touch his, restrained and soft and the heat of his kiss pops through me like bonfire sparks.

His lips linger at mine. We waver on the verge of completely giving in. The newness, the unfamiliarity of it is still there and I won't let myself disappear altogether.

But he feels so fucking good. I don't understand why. I'll never let go of that need to reconcile everything that's going through my brain.

He holds a hand at my ribcage, his solid grip there urging me against him. I come pretty damn close to letting it all go when his thigh presses between my legs, into the pulsing need of my hard on.

My thumb pulls down the waist of his shorts a little lower before my hand dips inside and I grip the ridge of his hip. Tasting his bottom lip once more, I just barely ease away. “Are they gone?”

“I don't know,” he rasps across my lips. “You're making me so hard, what the fuck?” His mouth falls to my neck and he murmurs there, “Fuck fuck fuck  _fuck_ ,” with this whispered urgency that's hot as hell and about to unravel me. “We need to go upstairs,” he decides, his back rising and falling with his rush of breath. “Or we need to stop.”

I squeeze hard at his hip as my face tips down to meet his. “Let's go upstairs.”


	12. Chapter 12

A loud hot breath and a low groan rush out of me when my back slams against the wall. His strong hand pressing into my chest, I push against him anyway to grasp for the waist of his shorts in the darkness. But he fights me off with his own hurried intentions.

We had turned all the lights off before we left for the pool, but at that time, the evening sun was still out. Now it's late and the darkness, faintly glowing with blue moonlight across the apartment, heightens all my other senses.

The sound of his exhales on my skin swirls in my mind and I need it to stay there to keep me from thinking clearly.

He rests his head against my middle, pinning me to the wall of the entryway just inside his door. That's as far as we made it.

Tugging the tie at my waist, he starts to work my shorts down. My fingers dig into his messy, damp hair and he hums a soft moan of appreciation when I do -- either from the sensation or from the new skin he just encountered as he slides my swimsuit down my hips.

I feel his teeth there as he drags his mouth across my abdomen. I watch him. The silhouette of angled features combined with the sensation of his soft mouth, the softness of his hair, the way he sinks to his knees in front of me in this earnest, enamored way has me fascinated.

He doesn't say a word. But my wet shorts are down my thighs and my dick is in his hand. I don't think I've ever wanted to come in someone's mouth more. I could beg for it any second, but I feel his tongue draw a slick path at the underside of my shaft and I don't have to.

He takes the head of my cock between his lips and  _fuck_ I could pass out. My head tips back against the wall and I let out this shameless gravelly moan at the feeling of his tongue, hot and slow sneaking along the sensitive ridge there.

His noises echo the ones I make, an appreciative sigh following every one of mine. He guides me further with an easy stroke of his fist, gradually slipping the heat of his mouth around me.

I arch back even more as if the wall would give behind my head. I push the palm of my hand across my face, squeezing my eyes shut. “Fuck me, oh my god,” I breathe out into the air above me while my other fist grasps his hair.

I think about the way he had said _I'm all yours_. He's said it twice to me since yesterday and I'm sort of obsessed with the sentiment.

All mine.

I'm a selfish fuck when I'm with him but it's just because whatever he stirs up inside me, I can't get enough of it.

I honestly can't remember the last time someone gave me head. I can barely hold any thoughts together right now but I'm positive no one's ever made me feel like this.

For a fleeting moment, I wonder if Noble's ever done this before. From vague conversations, I assumed that he never had but  _holy shit_ , how is he doing this?

His head bobs a little faster and I tip my hips down to meet his strokes. My legs could give out beneath me. I don't know how I'm standing because all I can feel are the free-falling waves of desperation that throb inside every muscle.

The weight of my exhales, sharp and heavy with an undeniable rhythm fill this hallway. Noble seems provoked by my harsh, needy panting. He moans when I swear overhead even though I try to bite down on my admission of how close I am each time he takes me to the back of his throat.

His wet mouth slips away and he eases back just enough to make me delirious with a focused, jerking fist.

I call out, knocking my head against the wall again. “Ah, ssshit, Noble. Please... please,” I murmur in a shaky whisper.

He lets out this loud groan and it's so hot knowing he's this turned on, this into it, just in the pursuit of getting me off.

His mouth is around me again when I suck in a quick desperate breath. I hold onto his head, nearly toppling forward with the force of a climax I can't hold at bay anymore.

I grasp his shoulder as my body is wracked with the shuddering pulse of an orgasm that breaks me.

I'm destroyed. A million pieces -- of resolve, of nerves, of doubt -- all shattered. And I don't know who I am any more.

All I can do is slump down the wall. He holds me around my hips as I sink to the floor in front of him, my shorts still half on. I'm dizzy with a pounding heart, with breath that won't keep up. With my weight against him, I bury my face in his neck until he starts to shift back to the floor.

Adjusting, I shove my swimsuit the rest of the way off and climb on top of him. There's still this rush, this frenzy about everything -- our touches, our air -- like if we slow down, we'll  _reason away_  this need. Although, I couldn't even if I wanted to.

I want him. Want want want. I've never mindlessly coveted someone, driven purely by… I don't even know. Something deeper than lust or hunger. I chase the want and it captures me, releasing me just long enough so that I come after it again. It's endless.

The only words we've spoken since we left the pool have been desperately uttered curses, moans of approval, and murmured requests. I don't need to talk; I just want him to feel what I feel.

I get those blue shorts with the pink birds down and he helps me, his prominent dick springing from the waistband. I can't help but twitch one eyebrow when my gaze is caught by the straining hardness.  _Damn, dude_.

The moment apart makes him reach out for me. “Come here,” he whispers and I lower myself to him.

I draw in a deep inhale at his chest, press my forehead there while my touch trails down his side. I reach for his hard-on as I descend, leaving kisses on his stomach. When my hand closes around him, I practically feel his pulse.

Working myself back, I take a moment to slip my loose fist up and down the length of him, appreciating the way he twitches from the attention. The throaty growl that edges out of him tells me how badly he wants it.

And I do too. I want to lure him to a point where he abandons his control. Where he wants me so fucking hard, he doesn't say it, he just owns it.

My tongue doesn't tease him. Instead, I sink the length of him into my mouth, dip my head and take him as far as I can.

This cracked moan rumbles in his chest as he arches into me. That's all it takes. For me to forget my hesitations, my questioning. All I need is this rapt surrender from him to not give one fuck what it means to cross this line.

The thought had entered my mind earlier today while I was getting ready. If it came to  _this_ , would I know what to do? Would it be what he wanted?

There's nothing mysterious or intimidating about the act though. It's powerful, to prompt such abandon from him. Where the heat from my tongue, the slickness from the easy pace of my movements, makes him drag fingers through my hair.

He's lost in slow, shaky exhales. Every time he mutters an airy  _fuck_ , his hips rock and I meet him there.

My hand strokes him. My other hand slides down right at the crease of his thigh, then coasts back up his flat stomach. I suck to the tip and my fist follows before I take him all the way down once again.

“Fuck, you feel so perfect. You're perfect,” he whispers, weaving ragged sighs through his praise.

I think about how long he's wanted me like this. I wouldn't know. Has it only been tonight?

For me, I have no idea. There was no switch flipped where one minute we were friends and the next, I was hard just hearing his voice. What we had were these layers of moments -- as strangers, then the illusion of friendship, then dragged to different sides -- as a criminal and a traitor. Then strangers again. And now this. We needed all of it to get to  _this_ \-- a deep, undeniable connection that compelled us to find our way back to each other.

I bring him to the edge as determined as he did for me. His muscles seize as I coax from him his intense release with a final few pumps of my fist.

When I swallow, it's nothing remarkable. I don't remember the way he tastes or what it's like or whatever. I just want every piece of him.

_I'm all yours._

And as I give on top of him there on the hardwood entryway floor, I rest my forehead on the plane of his low stomach. The faint rise and fall of his breath soon matches mine as he idly combs fingers through my hair.

Then it quakes a little, the gradual shift of his abs makes me glance up. A smirk tugs at my lips when I see him laugh.

“I know it's my fault we're on the floor--” He starts.

My lazy head falls back down and I crack up.

“--But I regret not managing those, y’know, dozen or so steps to get our asses to the bed. Because I mean fuck, I guess I'm sleeping here tonight.”

I don't miss the soreness in my cheeks when I smile and I ease up to my knees. “You need help?”

“You're funny if you think my muscles can function right now.”

Kneeling beside him, I pull on his heavy arm until he eventually sits up with an exaggerated groan. When he does, his forehead falls like dead weight onto mine and he closes his eyes.

His chest expands before he lets out a slow breath through his nose. “Stay.”

I lick my lower lip and linger there with him. “Not on the floor.”

A smile curves on his face and he opens his eyes. “No, not on the floor.”

I don't know if I could ever be that forthright, to let go of myself enough to say to him, _I'm all yours_. So I brush the tip of my nose across his cheek and I nod. “I want to stay.”


	13. Chapter 13

“I've never done that before.” Noble says once he hears me come back to the room.

Dressed in boxers and a plain t-shirt, he stands at the French doors of his bedroom that look out over the balcony and downtown.

The room is dark aside from the city lights when I come in. I had put on my boxers I was wearing earlier before I changed and that's all I wear when I approach the other side of the bed.

I laugh softly into the glass of water I carry before murmuring, “Yeah, me neither.”

He turns to look at me, a half smile slanting on his face as he kneels on the bed. “I think you're a damn liar.”

“I haven't!” My eyes widen and I feel my brow draw together before I slide in with him across the crisp white sheets. “I think _you're_  a damn liar.”

He holds up his hands as if to affirm his innocence. “I would tell you if I had.” Then he drops down beside me on his stomach.

Propping my hands beneath my head, I gaze up at the ceiling fan and appreciate the breeze on my skin that's still hot. “I remember the first blowjob I ever got--” I recall, prompting a breathy laugh from Noble before I continue. “--And it was her first time and my first time. And it was nothing like that.”

“God, I would hope not. If you told me I gave head like a teenage girl, I'd be really offended.”

I tip my head back into the pillow with a laugh. “You definitely didn't.”

“Just saying… I really liked it.” He offers this matter-of-fact shrug that amuses me. “I once dated this girl who never went down on me. Like ever. And it bummed me out.”

“Well did you go down on her?”

“Yeah, man.”

“Then I don't know. Maybe she just didn't like doing it.”

He nods thoughtfully then decides, “I liked it.”

“You gonna start giving blowjobs all around Miami now?”

He smiles. “I liked it with  _you_.”

“Oh I see.” I reach over and rake my fingertips through his hair.

He lowers his face to the pillow, appreciating my hand there. “I like the way you said my name.”

Little flickers of heat still pulse through me. Looking over at him, I swallow hard and guide his head a little closer until he adjusts across my chest. “ _Did_ I say your name?”

He lifts his head and nods.

“See, I didn't even realize. You're that good.”

Turning his face, he pushes it against my ribcage and lets out this faint groan. We just lay there for a moment. I listen to the sound of his breathing in the dark, soft and hypnotic like the ocean and it begins to settle inside me how fleeting this is.

Slowly, he turns his head again, inches up and presses a kiss on my shoulder. “What time is it?”

“I have no idea.”

“I haven't checked my phone in forever and there's no fucking clocks in this room.”

I let the arm that he's laying on drop across the bed. With a deep inhale, I turn on my side to face him. “It really sucks you're leaving tomorrow.”

“It's a problem.” He draws fingertips up my stomach then flattens his palm against my chest. “What am I supposed to do? I like your mouth too much.”

“Maybe if I kiss you enough tonight, you'll get sick of it.”

“Oh my god, gross,” he complains. “Please get a cab and go and don't ever fucking talk to me again.”

With a smile I can’t help, I roll closer, trapping his hip as my knee slides over it. I keep going until he lands on his back and I ease myself on top of him. “Listen, I'm not trying to start anything but--”

He groans in response. “No, yes you are. You're always starting shit.”

“I'm not.” My words are muffled into the side of his neck. “I just--” And then my lips close around the sensitive skin there. I bite gently and the throaty exhale that rumbles out of him is so satisfying.

It's not even like I'm trying to fuck him. Or cornering him so we can get each other off all over again. I just can't stop. I can't  _not_ be close to him.

If we're this close, we can be lost. It's just him and me and breath in my ear and the way he smells, taut curves of muscle and warm skin. My hands in his hair, his sliding down my back.

I draw in another loud inhale and drag my face to the other side of his neck. “You feel really good. You're not going anywhere.”

“Mm. Okay, whatever you say. Are we just gonna stop time and live in this bed?”

“Yes.” I sit up on my knees and pull him with me, enough to grip the back of his t-shirt and drag it off. Easily, he ducks out of it and I toss it aside.

His strong hands grasp my sides and I wrap my arms around his neck, holding him to me. My lips capture his in another kiss. I drag fingers into his mess of hair, up the back of his head.

I savor the heat of his mouth then slowly slip away. He chases me with one more, a soft one, a slight playful flick of his tongue, then whispers, “Jamie, what are we starting?”

“I don't know.” My voice is hushed when I answer, pushing my forehead against his. “I don't even know how it started. When did it start?”

“I don't know.” He glances down, musing over a thoughtful breath as he runs his grip up and down my sides. “If I thought about it hard enough, I could figure it out.”

I let myself attempt to calm down, close my eyes and will my heartbeat to ease up. As I trace the back of his head, along the edge of his hair, I realize I need to diffuse some of this.

“I don't know if I should let myself think hard about it,” he murmurs into my neck. “You're gonna make me--” And then he trails off, sliding his palms down to my thighs. He rubs there with a heavy pressure that feels good and isn't doing much to get my hard-on to subside.

“Gonna make you what?”

With one hard, definitive kiss on my neck, he pushes off of me, exhaling his noisy groan and falls back to the pillow. He takes me with him with an almost friendly tug on the back of my neck.

Adjusting, I ease off to the side and don't miss his stiff arousal my thigh brushes as I move off of him. I resist the temptation to pay it more attention.

Stretching across the bed on my stomach, I settle onto my elbows. I don't know what to say. I haven't let the gravity of him, of  _this_ sink me yet. I'm sure it's coming. Probably the next phase in this selfish hunt. The desire. Then the gratification. Then the guilt.

He must have gotten there before me.

With a deep breath, he looks up and rubs his hand across closed eyes. “Jamie Reagan.” He sighs my name and I actually feel it on my heart. I feel his breath sink there, his voice vibrates in my chest. “You're gonna fuck me up. God dammit.”

“Don't--”

“I'm not,” he mutters. “I know.” Then he whispers it to himself, “I won't.”

I won't acknowledge this. That this is bigger than some self-indulgent hook-up, a curious experiment because we  _could_. I won't entertain an inevitable aftermath.

I won't let this raise any more questions.

I won't fall for you.

That's what he means.

How long can I live with the lie if I swear to myself that I won't either?


	14. Chapter 14

In the morning, I'm the first to wake up. I hardly slept. My mind never really settled but my body was exhausted. I'm not a good sleeper anyway, but I'm even worse in a different bed with someone else beside me.

Stretching beneath the covers, I turn to see Noble still asleep on his stomach, his hands tucked beneath the pillow where he buries his face.

I appreciate him there, his messy hair, his parted lips where quiet steady breaths pass.

Outside it's raining. Pale grey light filters through the windows where rhythmic droplets pelt the glass. It's the perfect Sunday morning for sleeping in. But of course I can't.

So I make my way out of bed and head to the bathroom. After, I retreat down the hall to the guest room, find my green long-sleeved shirt from last night and duck into it. I stay in my boxers, though, not quite ready to face getting dressed in my jeans.

My phone lays abandoned on the guest room dresser. I pick it up to find the battery almost drained along with a few random texts and emails but thankfully nothing pressing. I'm not interested in my family launching an investigation today at Sunday dinner because I missed a call.

Down the hall, I wander further into the living space. This place, the kitchen, the balcony, and certainly the entryway evokes this heartsick attachment already.

I consider starting coffee. I see the brewer and supplies tucked away on the counter, but something tells me Noble is particular about his French press so I wait on that.

Just inside the door, I spot a paper lying there and I go to pick it up. Sure enough, it's the promised confirmation for Noble's massage. I have to laugh and I make my way back to his room.

He's shifted a little since I left him, still on his stomach, his head turned the other way. He stirs a little as I reach for the charging cord on his nightstand and stick my phone there. I set the confirmation paper beside it and then climb onto the bed.

When I do, he softly groans into his pillow.

I scoot in and ease one leg over him until I straddle the slope of his ass and push down on his back.

This time, a loud moan rumbles from his chest. He picks up his head. “Oh damn, are we doing this?” Then he tilts his hips back, lifting me up a little. “Be gentle though.”

“Shut up.” I chuckle, shoving against the back of his shoulder as I slide off of him.

Amused, he announces a gravelly “Good morning” as he turns over.

“Morning.”

“How'd you sleep?”

“Decent.” I point to the nightstand. “You have a massage at eleven.”

“Hell yeah dude.” Adjusting, he sits up in bed and reaches for his glasses before he pushes them onto his face. “You want some breakfast?”

I'm happy to accept that offer and we manage to get ourselves out of bed. When he meets me in the kitchen, he gets started, going to the refrigerator to pull out what he needs.

I lean against the kitchen counter while Noble works around me, setting out his eggs, then putting the half dozen carton away.

With a coy smirk I just stand there.  “Am I in your way?”

“Yes. God.” Exasperated, he bends down and nudges my legs to open a cabinet. “You need a job don't you?”

“I'm bad at just sitting.”

“Oh, we found something you're bad at. Make a note.”

“What can I do?”

Noble sets a pan on the cooktop then steps closer to me. He just barely pinches the edge of my chin, turns his face and touches his index finger to his own cheek. “This.” He waits.

I settle a look on him but a curve flicks on my lips anyway before I lean in. I press a kiss on his face, right above the strong line of his jaw.

With a smile, he steps away, then gestures to the chair on the other side of the counter. “That's it. Now you can sit.”

“Fine.” Resigned, but content to surrender to him, I get myself to the chair at the counter.  “So what, you go grocery shopping just to stay two days in New York?”

“I like to have stuff here.” He shrugs. Moving to the end of the counter, he turns off the electric kettle and works to prepare his French press, scooping the grounds, then adding the hot water. Then he sets it on the counter in front of me and points with his instructions, “Don't push yet” before he returns to the stovetop. “An empty refrigerator stresses me out. I didn't go to the store, though. I had Nina hook me up.”

I have to roll my eyes. “What would you do without your girl?”

“I was like, listen, I've got this guy coming over and I really like him--”

“Uh-huh.”

“-- And he's problematic and sort of impossible--”

“What?” My voice nearly squeaks when I say it.

“And I'm weak for his perfect face and I need it to look like I've got my shit together.”

“Is that what you told her?” I smirk.

“Something like that.”

“You assumed I'd spend the night.”

“You did last time.”

“Yeah, well--” I glance away and breathe out a soft laugh, then slant him a critical gaze. “Problematic?”

“For me, at least.”

My lips twist and I simply nod, watching the way the corner of his smile reaches his cheek as he peers down at his skillet of eggs.

“You think you're not?”

He laughs. “I know I'm a huge problem. Why you're even hanging out with me is beyond me.”

“I don't know.” A heavy sigh falls from my shoulders.

“This is me fishing for compliments. Like what a fast runner I am. How cute I look in the morning.”

“You do look damn cute in the morning.” I pass a hand over my mouth and prop my face there while I watch him. “Those glasses are problematic.”

I see one of his eyebrows twitch over the thick black frame and he quickly glances up at me. “You have so many kinks I'm learning about.”

“I do not,” I laugh.

“What if I wore the college professor outfit  _and_ the glasses--?”

I feel the intrigued crease along my forehead. “Keep talking.”

“--Sat on my desk while I lectured and then asked you to hang back after class.”

With an amused smile, I laugh down at the countertop. “These are helpful scenarios for me to think about once you leave.” Then I gesture to the rod in the middle of the coffee press to check if it's ready to be pushed down. “Now?”

“Yes now.” He flips off the stove and works to slide the eggs onto two plates. “Speaking of that. I don't want to leave with like… things unclear.”

“Alright.”

“I don't mean I need things defined. But. I don't want to leave with either of us regretting anything, or feeling like--” He sets both plates on the counter and then retrieves two mugs and we take turns pouring our coffees. “Like we have to figure anything out.”

“Okay.” I nod. “So then let's be clear.”

He rounds the counter and takes a seat in the chair beside me. “I like you. Am I entirely sure what that means? No. But I don't want to go home and beat myself up over anything.”

“I don't want you to either.”

“Aside from me being a dumbass, and showing my face around the city -- which I know I'm not supposed to do-- we haven't done anything wrong. I mean, unless you're married and haven't told me or--”

“No.” I laugh.

He nods, as if a speck of worry had existed about that in the back of his mind. “But I don't think anything has to change. Unless--”

“I really like you,” I tell him. “Do I regret what happened last night? Honestly, I don't know. I've never… I mean, yeah I've never been with a guy like that before, which is its own sort of… situation. But on top of that, I've never moved on someone that quick. Like… without some solid understanding of the relationship. I'm a pretty--” And then I exhale a soft laugh at the words I'm about to choose. “Straight arrow kind of guy in terms of--”

“I blow guys in hallways all the time.” He shrugs.

Nudging him with my elbow as I eat, I hiss a laugh over my plate.  “So if I let any regret surface, it'll be because I worry we gave in to something--” And then I pause for a thoughtful, deep breath.

“Depraved? Horny?”

“Impulsive.” I laugh.

“Those are the three things I liked most about it,” he reasons.

I shake my head but it doesn't prevent the smile from curving on my face. “It's hard for me  _not_ to be in my head about it. It's out there and it happened. Usually I can temper my actions, you know? And last night, it was like…” Then I just blink hard, musing the experience while I chew. “Yeah.”

“Dude, are you gonna start talking about repenting our sins and the  _wounded nature of man_ \--”

“Stop.”

He smiles. “I went to Catholic school too.”

All I can manage is a weary, amused groan.

“Look, if you didn't mean to go there, or y’know, it's not sitting right with you, it's cool,” he offers. “I'm not looking to like, trigger some existential crisis. We can just--”

“We can call it what it was.” I decide for him. Leaving things open-ended or casual with this potential for more isn't good for me. I need lines. I need boundaries.

He looks at me as if to clarify that for him since I seem so definitive about it. “What are we calling it?”

I kill time with more eating and swallow hard. “A good night.”

He sniffs a laugh, then tilts his head as if considering it over a sip of coffee. “Alright. I'm not so much concerned about what happened, as I am with what  _will_ happen. What about after I go? I still want to talk to you.”

“I want to talk to you too. No one's saying let's cut each other off.”

“So we're friends.” Noble muses. “And we had a good night.”

“Yeah.”

“But no more good nights.”

I can't tell if he's establishing it or asking.

“Well.” I literally feel myself almost whimper. “I mean--”

“We'll cross that bridge when we come to it,” he decides.

It should seem obvious to me to call off any future… encounters. But I hesitate. It just stalls, this tug in my gut as if to say  _whoa, not so fast_.

Easy for us to try to rule it out now, the morning after. But let's say he visits in a month or two and we're still friends and he still has this effect on me and still smiles at me the way that makes his eyes glow. What if he wears those shorts again?

I can't think  _what if what if_. It happened. It happened once and that's an easy write-off. Any more and it starts to gain traction.

After we finish breakfast, I help him get the dishes washed. It surprises me that he doesn't just leave them in the sink for housekeeping, but he tells me that makes him feel like a dick and I appreciate that kind of self-awareness about him.

I manage to get dressed, back in my jeans from the night before, claim my phone from his room and offer to head out so that he can get packed and hop in the shower.

“Enjoy your massage, by the way.” I smirk back at him over my shoulder as I lead the way to the door.

“Oh I will. One day I'll talk you into it.”

“Probably. You've already got me wishing I lived the penthouse life,” I muse. “I have to go back to eight hundred square feet and no pool and no one to buy my groceries.”

“I'll send Nina over to keep an eye on you.”

“She's probably wondering how you made out last night.”

He nods thoughtfully. “I made out a lot last night.”

“Get out. Get your ass back to Florida, Nick.”

He's already pulling me into a hug when he laughs. I grasp him around the back, unwinding a little when he holds me to him.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, running his palm across my shoulderblades. “For spending the day with me yesterday. Even if we had just stopped at sushi, it still would have been one of my favorite days in a long time.”

I nod, easing back to set my sober gaze on him before I simply answer, “Me too.”

I feel the muscles in my lip twitch when I think about kissing him.

But instead, he dips his head. And almost like a horse, like a baby foal craving affection, he leans down and rests it against my neck. The move is unexpectedly vulnerable, heavy with the weight of what we're not ready to admit.

My hand slides up his back and into his hair, soft and messy from sleep. With a deep inhale, I pull him in, let my face fall and my eyes close. I don't want him to go, but I don't say it. I just comb my fingers through his hair, turn and press my lips against the side of his head.

“Text me when you get home,” I murmur there.

He nods, drawing in a deep breath as he pulls away. “Alright.” Then he clears his throat as he pushes up his glasses. “Stay out of trouble.”

My hand drops to his palm in a hard smack before it lingers there with a firm squeeze and I back away. “You too.”


	15. Chapter 15

“BUDDY!” The young cry comes from down the sidewalk and I snap my head around as Vinny and I approach our parked cruiser at the curb.

“Buddy! Mommy! Buddy!”

“What is that?” Vinny wonders.

I glance across Park Avenue South, its four lanes of rushing traffic, and spot a small brown heap lying in the middle of the street. Then I look over to see a woman with a child in a stroller, edging herself between parked cars to assess the oncoming vehicles.

“Okay, it’s okay!” She tries to assure the little boy. “We’ll get him.”

Figuring out that this lady is about to dart back into the street to get the abandoned stuffed animal, I hold out my arm as Vinny and I make our way over.

“Miss, just stay right there, alright?” I tell her.

Vinny steps onto Park just after the light changes and a wall of cars starts to head our way. He holds them off, though, long enough for me to jog to the middle of the street and scoop up the stuffed dog and run back to the curb.

The young woman offers a relieved laugh and the little boy who’s probably two years old keeps shouting for Buddy from his stroller.

“There he is,” I tell them, brushing my hand over the soft fur. “See? He’s alright. Might need a bath, though.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” she says. “That dog’s been everywhere.”

I take that to mean it’s okay to hand the dog off to the boy and he happily grasps it, announcing an elated “Buddy!”

“He dropped it when we were crossing and I didn’t notice until we got to the sidewalk. So thank you.”

I nod. “You’re welcome. This is a busy intersection, though. You gotta be careful.”

“Yes. I know.” She smiles, scrunching her nose like she’s sort of embarrassed and tucks a strand of hair that had come loose from her ponytail behind her ear. “Let me buy you a cup of coffee.”

I wave a hand. “That’s not necessary.”

“Some other time, maybe?”

I feel my brow dip and with a covert shift of my gaze, check to see if she’s wearing a wedding ring.

“N--, um--” I mutter. “That's--”

But before I can manage a coherent answer, she's already pulling a random piece of paper and a pen from her bag. She finishes her number and passes it off to me, all purposeful and mom-like as if she doesn't have time to wait for my input.

“Well if you ever do, Officer… Reagan. I'm Christina.”

I take the card in confusion and she's already hitching her stroller back onto the sidewalk so I can't exactly refuse.

“Thank you!” She calls out to the both of us. “You're heroes.”

As Christina pushes away, I turn to see Vinny just propped up against the patrol car, a smug look on his face that I'm used to by now.

“Oh man. That was  _cute_ Reagan.”

“Shut up,” I murmur, amused as I head to the driver’s side of the car.

He drops in beside me. “That was some warm and fuzzy shit. You might make the papers for that dog rescue.”

“Well, what can I say?” I muse, a smirk tugging at my cheek as I pull away from the curb. “Danger around every corner in this city.”

“Park Avenue problems, huh?”

“Exactly.”

“She was cute too,” Vinny remarks. I'd actually start to wonder what was wrong with him if he didn't tack on that observation. “I can get down with that exhausted mom vibe.”

“Yeah? Does that do it for you?”

“She was too tired to resist the Jamie Reagan charm.”

I have to laugh. “That's probably it.”

“You look domestically competent,” he supposes. “Like you can fix a garbage disposal.”

“That's what the ladies want, Vin,” I tease. “I can't help it.”

He sputters an unsuspecting laugh and shakes his head as he glances out the passenger side window. “You're in rare form today, Reagan. What'd you get into this weekend?”

“Uh--” I stutter. “Not-- Nothing.”

“ _Not--uhh_ ,” He echoes. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“That was a weird  _nothing_.” He maintains. “You know I have my suspicions.”

“Suspicions?”

“That my partner is getting it good on the downlow--”

“Stop.” I chuckle at the way he words it. “What does that even mean?”

“Like you're seeing some girl, but keeping it strictly in the bedroom trying to avoid that relationship life.”

“Nothing happened in my bedroom this weekend.” I tell him, feeling proud of my sly honesty.

“Mm-hm. Whose bedroom, then?”

My mouth opens without an answer and I merely shake my head, concentrating on the road. “I-- what?”

“You suck at lying,” he laughs. “I mean damn.”

“Why are you so interested in finding out?”

“How come you never hit up these girls we meet on patrol?”

“What? Do you?”

“Hell yeah,” he answers. “I work that to my advantage.”

I blow out a slow, amused breath. “Yeah well. When I'm on duty I don't notice that stuff.”

“ _That stuff_. You mean hot girls?”

“I guess, man.”

“Alright then.” He nods. “Off duty, then. Let's hang out one night this week and see who you notice.”

If I changed the subject enough, I figured Vinny would eventually drop his interest in my love life. But it probably only makes it worse.

A part of me is sort of desperate to confess to him what I've gotten myself into. Primarily for his take on the fact that I'm more or less involved with someone in WitSec. Someone from a crime family that I was partially responsible for taking down.

But acknowledging that involved means  _intimately_ involved is something I plan to never do. Not with Vinny anyway.

Actually he’d be relieved to have finally figured out why I wasn't interested in these random women. He’d be all proud and then probably start trying to hook me up with guys we saw on the street instead. And that's not something I'm interested in either.

It's just him. It's Noble. Something about him, about how he makes me feel, won't allow me to let him go. Throughout the day, anything that happens, I mentally file it away to tell him about later. I'd tell him about the stuffed dog rescue -- knowing he would fall pretty hard for that -- and pretend to be humble about it. But really I'm a shameless bastard for his ego stroking.

We had decided we're just friends. Maybe. It's still unclear.  

But already I want more. Like the sound of his voice -- his loud laugh or when his words are muffled against the side of my neck. I lie in bed at night and wish he was right there. When I woke up this morning, there was this sort of empty tug I felt in my gut because he wasn't.

I don't recall ever feeling this way with someone who was  _just a friend_.

So maybe the distance, the absence, will diminish that tug. I ponder the notion that as the days and weeks roll by, my senses will snap back into place and I'll return to the life I knew before him. But do I even want to go back?

***

Innocent enough texting carries on with Noble in the weeks that follow his New York stay. We fall into an easy routine of  _good morning_  and  _good night_  texts that yeah, are probably more than friendly. But nothing I let myself get worked up over. 

Daily recaps, shared photos of weird stuff in our respective cities (none of him or me, though. I was always tempted to ask for a picture of him but I hadn't gotten that needy yet), and hints of seeing each other again are what make up our conversations.

It's when I get home one day from work that those hints become an explicit invitation.

I stop at the mailboxes in the lobby of my building and along with the usual bills, there's a note about a package. I live in a pretty small, quiet brownstone so our building’s mail carrier simply leaves the packages in a bin off to the side. There I see a small box addressed to me and I pick that up before heading upstairs.

Noticing the return address on the package is Miami, Florida, I'm nervous all of a sudden. I don't know why. But I can't imagine what Noble would be mailing to me.

I set everything on the kitchen counter and open the package. Inside, some plain packing paper hides a compact rectangular box. It’s wrapped in this charcoal grey and gold pinstriped paper and the idea of Noble wrapping a present is amusing to me.

I pull off the paper to reveal a hard leather sunglasses case before I pry it open and there in the soft lining is a pair of classic tortoise shell Ray-Ban Wayfarers.

Exhaling a soft laugh, I feel my brow pull together in confusion. I glance back in the box and see that I missed a small white card that I guess slid off into the packing paper. Noticing Noble’s handwriting, I lift out the card to read the printed message:  _These would look good on you in the Sunshine State._


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adult content warning definitely applies. :) Enjoy!

“Are you looking for trouble?” I ease back against the headboard of my bed, dragging my teeth across my bottom lip.

Noble’s soft laugh rumbles through the phone and just the sound of it thuds in my heart. “Always.”

“Because I got these--” I shift to pick up the Ray-Bans from my nightstand. “Sunglasses in the mail today out of the blue.”

“That’s random. Someone trying to buy your affection?”

“Maybe. But it's pretty dreary here in New York these days so I don't know if someone's trying to get me some place sunnier or--”

“Yeah, I think that's the idea.”

“Noble, I can’t accept these.” Unfolding the shades, I play with the frames before I slide them onto my face and scoot down in my bed. “They're kinda pricey.”

“Nah. They're knock-offs.”

I laugh. “No, they're not.”

“They're not. But too bad, it's a gift.”

“Too bad?”

“Yeah, you're stuck with them.”

“You're such a generous guy.”

“I can be.”

“Well thank you. For the gift.”

“You're welcome.”

Just the sound of his voice stirs up this heat, these sparks beneath my skin. “How can I return the generosity?”

“You can get your ass down to Miami and come hang out with me.”

A smile plays along my lips and I reach up to slide off the sunglasses. “Do you miss me or something?”

“I miss parts of you.”

“Oh!” I call out a loud laugh, tipping my head back into my pillow. “Like my brilliance and my clever--”

“No.”

I laugh harder and lean over to return the Wayfarers to my nightstand. “Well then you might have to be more specific about these parts that you miss.”

“Yeah, you'd like that I bet.”

“I would like it.”

“The things I miss about you aren't exactly friendly things, so. You know. We drew boundaries.”

“Did we?”

“I mean if I start talking about that little line that defines your hip that you didn't even bother hiding with those shorts you wore so damn low--”

I press my lips together as this swell of unexpected heat sinks through me.  _Fuck_. “Those were your shorts.”

“Yeah well. Maybe if I ran a six-minute mile, I'd have a smaller waist size. But I don't.”

“You look pretty damn good for someone whose idea of working out is picking up all the girls who work at The Greenwich--”

“Damn!” He calls out and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Here I am thinking you're about to get me hard and you go and  _roast_ me.”

I crack up even more and reach down to absently play with the drawstring on my pants, wrapping it around a finger. “I said you look good, I don't know what you're talking about.”

He just mutters a skeptical hum.

“I miss things about you too.”

“Friendly things?”

A smirk pulls at my lips. “No.”

“Oh well then you can't say them.”

“Wait, you're talking about some kind of line going down my shorts--”

“I said  _if_ I were to tell you I missed that line, that little distinct… path, I'd be outside the friendship boundaries. It was just an example.”

“Ah, just an example.”

“Right.”

“So if I told you I miss... how good it felt when you sank your mouth all the way down on my cock and I could feel it hit--”

“ _Jee-sus_ , fuck!” He chokes out on the other end of the line.

I tip my head back again and cough out a laugh at the ceiling. “I thought we were just giving examples of what would be outside the boundaries--”

“You fucking prick, oh my god.”

“Alright, alright. I'll stop.”

“Hell no. I'm all turned on now. Keep talking,” he insists. “What are you wearing?”

“No, I forgot. Friends only,” I muse. “Let's see, I miss our good conversation--”

“N-n-n-no. Fuck that. Talk more about your dick.”

“I probably shouldn't.”

“Where are you?” He wonders. “Are you alone?”

“Yes. I'm on my bed.”

“Get your laptop and check flights right now.”

I laugh softly. “Yeah? For a friendly visit?”

“Yeah, I only deep throat a dick for a certain kind of friend.”

My free arm falls across my face and muffle a groan into my biceps. “Oh my god.”

“I'm not kidding. I'm really fucking hard right now. Are you on your way?”

“It's kind of a long flight though--”

“Well then fine. You're gonna have to send me a picture. To pass the time.”

“A picture of me?”

“A picture of you right now. Whatever you look like in your bed. But like, if you have a shirt on, take it off first.”

I twist my lips in amusement. “You want it of my face, or…”

“Just send me a damn picture you jerk.”

Laughing, I shake my head but I can't deny I'm sort of aroused when he tells me what to do.

“God,” he huffs. “What I wouldn't do you you right now.”

The desperate sentiment makes my eyebrow jump as I lean up, set my phone down and tug off my t-shirt. “Is that right?” I murmur absently. Picking up my phone, I flick open my camera, point it toward me and tilt it low, managing to capture a photo of myself from my shoulders-down, all the way to the end of the bed. I'm lounged there in just loose grey sweatpants, one leg out straight. I figure it's a good enough picture, well aware that it includes the path from my stomach, down the ridge of my hips that just disappear beneath the waist of my pants.

“I expect a picture in return,” I tell him as I send it off. “There. Enjoy.”

He waits a second and then I hear his gravelly, “Fuck me. Yep. I gotta go.”

“No way, don't get off the phone.” I protest. “It was just getting good. What you wouldn't do to me, huh?”

“Yeah, you probably couldn't handle it.”

“Oh-ho!” I choke. “You mean because you have such a damn huge dick?”

His loud laugh echoes through the phone and I have to smirk.

“I handled it alright last time,” I tell him.

This shaky breath, the slightest bit scratchy, rumbles out of him. The sound of it pulses through me, throbs in my hard-on. I run my hand up the length of it over my pants. “So where's my picture?”

“I'm busy.”

I exhale a hot laugh. “So take a picture of whatever you're  _busy_ doing.”

He complies, “Hang on.” And then he pauses a minute, the anticipation making me chew on my lip. My hips tilt down, as if I'm seeking out the friction of his body. Then he clears his throat. “There you go. Frame it and put it on your desk.”

Arching an interested brow, I pull the phone from my face and peer down at the new message from him. A surprised chuckle escapes me. “Oh damn.” Something deep in my core tightens when I see the picture -- in a similar position as I am, his large hand loosely grasps the prominent contour of his stiff cock over his gym shorts.

I bring the phone back to my ear. “Yeah, I don't know if I can handle it. Shit, Noble.”

“So are you on the plane yet, or--”

“Yep.” Without a thought, my hand slips into my pants. I dip the waist down and my touch grazes my rigid shaft before I wrap my grip around it.

“Don't be a tease.”

I can't control the impatient breath that escapes with my words. “If I were there, I promise I wouldn't tease you.”

“No?”

“No. I want you too bad.”

He groans and I can tell he moved the phone away from his face but I still hear him whisper a faint “Ah, god.”

My chest rises and falls as my lips part. “Unless you want me to tease you.”

“I want to watch you come again, that's what I want.”

My strokes find a gradual rhythm and I swallow hard to temper my breathing. “Watch me, or make me?”

“Both.”

“You made me come so fucking hard,” I tell him. “I don't think I've ever come as hard as I did with you.”

The breath he draws in is sharp and falters there a moment. We both know what the other is doing and if I wanted to stop, I should have done it when I looked at that picture.

But the sounds that he makes, restrained then heavy as a rush of air escapes his chest are sexy as hell. They make me wish he was right here on top of me.

He swears again in another rasp of air. “I would ruin you if you let me.”

I stretch my neck back and this needy groan sneaks out of me. My mouth falls open before I press my lips together to contain and throaty growl. “Yeah? You got me pretty damn close.” I'm close to being destroyed by him. He could break me. If I was there right this moment, I'd let him do whatever he wanted to me.

All he can do is breathe out. I listen and restlessly stoke the flames that course through me, giving in to this need while he does the same.

His choppy exhales echo my ragged ones in what's become this measured, pulsing beat.

I can't finish a thought. I want to tell him everything I would do, everything I want from him. How damn hot it was when he grasped my hair just before he came, lying on the floor of his penthouse. The way his muscles tensed and his urgent exhales cracked in his throat. But I can't be that articulate when I'm this turned on. And really we're too far gone to need words at this point anyway.

My eyes are closed and I imagine he's here. His hot panting in my ear, his hand jerking me instead of my own. I feel the bass of his voice in my pulse and I'm about to come and  _fuck_ I wish I could feel him when I do.

A desperate rush of air escapes him and I picture him until it's just a blaze of white light streaking behind my eyes. My breath catches in my chest, trapped until the throbbing in my grip lets go. The evidence of my release collects on my stomach. I was too caught up to take care of it anywhere else.

I assume the inevitable occurred on his end of the line too because it's quiet for a moment. Heavy breaths dwindle and slowly my surroundings return to me.

My hand that's holding the phone is stiff with a cramp and the rest of me feels completely limp.

I sink heavy into my pillows and exhale up at the ceiling. “God damn.”

That low laugh of his vibrates through the phone and it's like I feel it on my skin. “Yeah, that was pretty intense dude.”

A lazy chuckle rumbles inside me and I close my eyes. “So anyway--”

He coughs a surprised laugh and the sound of it as it tapers off to a weary groan amuses me. “Yeah so did you get that plane ticket yet?”

“Just now? I was preoccupied.”

He huffs, frustrated.

“What's the weather like in Miami these days?” I wonder.

He clears his throat and manages a deep breath. “Eighty-five degrees and sunny.”

“Do you still have those blue shorts with the flamingos on them?”

He hesitates a moment, then laughs softly. “Yeah. Why? Are those an incentive?”

“If you promise to wear those shorts at some point--”

“I'll wear those damn shorts to pick you up at the airport if it means you’ll come stay with me.”

I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut to fend off a smile before I answer, “Let me see what I can do and I'll let you know.”


	17. Chapter 17

_11:15am_

That's the text I send to Noble once my plane ticket to Miami is confirmed.

**Noble:**   _Saturday?_

**Jamie:**   _Yep._

**Noble:**   _Hell yeah dude._

**Jamie:**   _I fly back Sunday though._

**Noble:**   _We can make a lot happen in a day._

Intrigued, my cheek twitches.

**Jamie:**   _It's your city. I'm open._

**Noble:**   _So…. I did a bad thing._

**Jamie:** _Who's trying to kill you now?_

**Noble:**   _Actually it wasn't me. It was my obnoxious sister._

**Jamie:**   _Okay…_

**Noble:**   _She found your picture on my phone._

My brow furrows and I try to recall what photo he would have of me. Then a heavy heat tugs at my ribcage when I remember the one. The one without a shirt when I was in bed.

**Jamie:** _The one I sent you last week?_

**Noble:** _Yeah_.

I'm somewhat relieved that my face wasn't in that picture, but still it had to have made Bianca curious about why he had it.

**Noble:** _I tried to tell her it was me._

A half smile curves on my lips and I reply:  _Did she buy it?_

**Noble:**  She said “You wish.” So… no.

I laugh softly but a nervous flicker pricks my gut.

**Jamie:**   _What was she doing going through your phone?_

**Noble:**   _She grabbed it to take a picture the other day when we were out to eat and saw it saved there in my Photos. And she's obsessed and won't let it go now._

**Jamie:** _So what'd you tell her?_

**Noble:**   _I told her my friend Lindsey sent it to me, joking about what this guy from Tinder sent her, whether she should believe him and whatever._

**Jamie:**   _Ah._

**Noble:**   _But then Bianca was like “okay but why'd you save it?” And it became a whole thing and she's fucking crazy anyway._

I'm not sure how to take everything he's telling me. Whether he's ashamed or guilty or what. It's a reality check neither one of us is comfortable with yet.

I try to think if it was reversed. How I'd feel if Erin found the picture Noble had sent me -- the one I immediately deleted as soon as I got off the phone that night. I'd probably be sick. Suddenly the whole thing makes me want WitSec to assign me a new identity too.

**Noble:** _I should have deleted it. But… I mean, you know._

**Jamie:**   _Well I just won't send you anymore pictures. No big deal._

**Noble:** _I know we've talked about boundaries and whether we're just friends and then we do whatever the fuck we want. But we should probably put the brakes on for this visit. Like for real. Just so she gets off my case._

The message stings a little. It stings a lot. Which is stupid because we hadn't established ourselves as anything. I had decided weeks ago that even if we stopped… whatever it was we were doing -- hooking up, flirting, giving in to these physical urges -- I'd still want to be friends with him. So if that's the way it has to be, fine.

It sucks, though, that it's a one-sided decision. I had considered that this moment would probably arrive. But selfishly hoped it would be after I went to visit him. After I got one more night with him.

I don't say anything for a while and he sends me another message.

**Noble:** _There's plenty of hot girls down here who will be fighting for your attention anyway. So just to keep my jealousy in check, let's agree that's it's a chill weekend, no pressure. You know?_

I'm still a little unclear about what a _chill weekend_  is with Noble but I get the gist.

**Jamie:**   _Should I not come then? Is it going to make Bianca suspect things if I do?_

**Noble:**   _No god please come. She doesn't even have to know you're here. I just want to hang out, have fun in Miami, Nick Salcedo style. I'll behave I promise._

Reluctantly, I have to smile at the likelihood that those are some famous last words. But if those are the terms, I'd oblige.

**Jamie:**   _Got it. I’ll see you on Saturday then._

***

I feel myself grow distant over the next few days. I don't know how I'm supposed to talk to him. Even texting him  _ **hey, I hope you have a great day**_  feels weird and pointless once he writes back  _ **thanks you too**_  and it's like what the fuck? I second guess everything and it definitely doesn't feel like a  _chill, no pressure_  friendship.

I decide not to reach out to him. I'm not trying to freeze him out. I just worry casual  _“dude listen to this shit--”_  messages seem fake. Or if his reaction isn't  _enough_ for me I get in my head that I'm bothering him or crossing the line he had clearly tried to push me behind. So it's better for me to be hands off altogether until I can get a better feel from him, in person, what's okay and what's not.

We're at a point where I don't see how I could just disconnect from him entirely. Like _hey that time I ran into this mafia guy whose family I had sent to prison and we started hooking up and I've never hooked up with another guy before -- not even close -- but here I was blowing him on the floor of his eight thousand dollar a night penthouse and waking up in bed with him, and jerking off to the memory of it all for weeks? That was a weird blip. Well, moving on…_

No. While it sounds ideal to completely erase all of this from reality so that it wouldn't twist my insides with miserable guilt, I can't. So now what?

I resolve to keep my guard up when I head to Miami. I know how he can be, though. Charming with a smile that kills me, naturally affectionate in tricky ways that make me hold my breath and wonder if it's just for me. So if I feel that resolve start to crumble, I'll just have to tell him to cut it out. He knows what he does to me and it's not fair to provoke it.

I just hope seeing him will unwind all of these nerves. We can be  _just friends_  if we want to.

And I want to.

I don't want to put either one of us in a position to get caught by sisters and people who know us, where we suddenly feel  _outed_ and regretful. I want nothing to do with those feelings and the best way to avoid them is to not cross anymore lines. That’s the logical, rational me doing the thinking.

The question is how difficult will that be when the two of us have blurred every line that surrounds since the moment we met? To the point that I don't know if I can trust myself to stay inside the confines of something that's never been clear. And when my brain has nothing concrete to direct its decisions, I act on impulse. 

Those impulses, the ones that only he can seem to elicit, will undoubtedly get me into trouble


	18. Chapter 18

The message alert appears just after I turn the airplane mode setting off my phone.

> **Noble** _: So… heads up. My sister is coming with me to pick you up. Don't kill me. I'll explain later._

Wait, what the hell? I blink hard and reread the text message as people on the plane begin to shift for their belongings.

All morning, I had gone through various scenarios in my head of how this trip would unfold. And none of them included Noble's sister Bianca there outside baggage claim to greet me.

I wonder how much she knows. How are Noble and I supposed to be on the same page with a story we're keeping a secret? How did she get it out of him that I was coming here this weekend? And once she did, did she add up in her head that the friend who's coming to visit is the same guy who sent him that picture?

By the time I make my way out the sliding doors of baggage claim, the tropical south Florida air already begins to seep beneath my skin. Breezy palm trees line the lower level and I hitch my backpack further onto my shoulder as I slide my sunglasses from my head onto my face.

Before I even have time to scan the row of vehicles along the curb I hear his voice.

“There he is!”

My gaze darts to follow it and I spot Noble leaning up against the side of his car, a silver, older model Land Rover.

Fuck, I don't know what I was thinking. As if all Noble had to do was tell me we need to be  _chill_ and  _no pressure_  and I'd suddenly drop any attraction I felt for him.

If that's what he was going for, it didn't work.

He looks good in these brick red shorts and a plain white v-neck, black sunglasses on his head and I hate that I have to notice everything about him, that it affects me and makes my heart beat this fast.

A smile starts to nudge my cheek, I can't help it, and I head toward him.

He meets me for a friendly hug, grasping firmly around my back the same way he always does. There he mutters in my ear, “I know. Trust me I tried--”

Glancing over, I notice the passenger door of his car swing open.

All I do is breathe out a nervous “Alright” over his shoulder before I clap him there hard and ease back. I'm too distracted to notice the way he smells, to appreciate how good he feels this close to me when my attention is drawn away by the familiar redhead -- although the red is subdued to brunette now, darker and golden, closer to the color of Noble’s -- who steps onto the curb.

Noble leaves a hand on my upper back and turns toward the car. “Welcome to Miami.”

“Thank you.”

He clears his throat. “You remember Bianca.”

“I do.”

“My brother told me your real name,” Bianca announces. “Jamie-freaking-Reagan.” She smirks. And weirdly, it feels sort of good to see her again.

Unaffected, I merely spread my hands then let them rest low on my hips. “You got me.”

“Jamie suits you better anyway.”

I nod, then exhale a soft laugh, looking to Noble who just rolls his eyes.

“Come here. I want a hug,” she insists.

I oblige and move over to pull her in. “It's good to see you.”

“Let's get in the car because I need this full story.” She leaves me with one quick squeeze. “Shotgun!”

“What? No!” Noble protests. “Get out of here.”

I laugh. “It's fine. I can sit in the back.”

“No you can't. I see her all the time.” He grasps my bag and walks around to set it in the back. “You're here for a day. No calling  _shotgun_.”

With an indignant whimper, she yanks open the back door and shuts herself in. Amused, I glance over as Noble rounds the car to the driver's side.

On the ride away from the airport, I learn a little more about their life in Miami as Nick and Isabella Salcedo. I knew about Bianca and her job at some upscale department store at Bal Harbour, her apartment a few blocks from Noble's rented house. And I learn how she just broke up with some guy and she's  _done with idiot men_  and I smirk to myself, wondering if we have that in common.

But it doesn't take her long to steer the conversation away from herself and attempt to get some answers about the guy who set into motion this whole new identity, who built a relationship with them under false pretenses, and how he’s suddenly back in their lives like an old friend.

“So according to Noble,” she starts from the back. “You almost arrested him for being a jackass. But then he conned himself out of that one and convinced you to hang out with him instead.”

“Technically I didn't almost arrest him--”

“You should have. His dumbass could use a night in jail.”

“Hey!” Noble's brow pulls together as he drives.

“I tell you not to go back to New York. And if you do, you need to keep a low profile. But no. You go and get the cops called on you.”

“Well lucky for me, they were cool cops.”

“So then what?” She continues. “You guys just got each others’ numbers and kept in touch? And now you're here?”

I shrug, pondering how fuzzy I can make the truth as I peer out the window at the passing landscape. “Yeah.”

“It's called making friends,” Noble says. “It's this thing people do when they’re not self-absorbed--”

“Oh shut up! You're such a jerk.”

He chuckles, tilting his head up to glance at her in the rearview mirror. There he gives her this secret little nose scrunch that's damn adorable and I don't know how I'm supposed to get through this weekend with my heart in tact.

“Fine. So you're friends?”

I turn to glance back at her over my shoulder. “Is that okay?”

She cuts me a skeptical gaze. “I don't know.”

“She's suspicious,” Noble tells me. “That's all.”

“Suspicious of what?”

“Like maybe you tracked us down and you're undercover all over again,” she proposes. Sitting back, she folds her arms across her chest. “Attempting to bust us for something.”

“What would I bust you for?” I cock one eyebrow.

“Nothin'. I'm just a little nervous is all.”

“Well if you haven't done anything, what reason would I have to go undercover and bust you? Can't a guy just take advantage of you for living near the beach even if it means pretending to like you?”

Together, Noble and Bianca both holler their amusement.

“Oh!” Noble shouts, smacking one palm on the steering wheel. “Officer Reagan coming alive. We have a situation.”

“I knew it had to be something,” Bianca insists. “That explains why an upstanding guy like you would stoop to hanging out with this one.”

“Upstanding,” Noble echoes in a murmur before a twitch flicks at his brow.

I glance over at him, nodding as if I'm impressed by the praise, murmuring, “Upstanding.”

“Too upstanding for this party at Nick's house tonight?” Bianca leans forward, flashing eyes at me as her teeth drag across her lower lip.

I peer back at her, then to Noble. “A party?”

“Yeah, I was going to throw a little party tonight,” he explains. “I mean unless you want to go out. But the bar scene here is pretty hideous. You'd definitely hate it.”

I don't know what to think. On the one hand, I selfishly looked forward to a night alone with Noble. Like the ones we've had in New York. I miss him and a part of me wants to call his bluff that he intends to  _put the brakes on_  whatever it is we've been doing.

But if he plans to have a bunch of people over to his house then I guess he means it. And I'm put in my place, resigned as his friend, the cop from New York. 

I offer a half shrug. “Just as long as everyone's of age this time.”

“Ha!” Bianca squeaks. “You hear that brother?”

“Alright.” Noble scoffs. “You act like I hang out with teenagers or something and I do not. The party will be low-key.”

Rolling my eyes, I turn back to Bianca once more to see her shaking her head and we share a doubtful look.

He notices and shifts his gaze to me murmuring, “Are you good with that?”

I lean my head back against the seat and feel the challenge pull at the corner of my lips. “Let's do it, man.”


	19. Chapter 19

I wake up to the glow of late afternoon sun and the breeze from a ceiling fan on my skin.

It was one of those naps where I slept so hard, I've lost all concept of time and my surroundings. It's quiet except for the soft hum of a lawnmower somewhere off in the distance.

I still feel heat on my shoulders from a day spent in Noble's pool, on his back patio. There we had an easy afternoon -- him, Bianca and me. All of us just catching up. Bianca wanted to hear New York stories. She missed it all so badly. Pizza from Lucali, her guilty pleasure of  _The Post_  on Sundays, and the overall hustle of the city were all just a past life. And she hadn't been back once.

It was easier than I thought to _just be_  with Noble. Without this buzzing anticipation, without holding my breath for the next look from him. Having his sister there diffused most of that and it was just like three friends, wistful about Brooklyn, wading lazily through the water, and laughing at the stories we had about one another.

Although Noble in swim trunks -- not my favorite blue ones, but what's become a close second favorite, this equally ridiculous pair with red, white, and blue popsicles all over them -- is a weakness for me I haven't shaken. But I noticed more than one lingering look from him as well and I felt like it kept us even.

Afterward, we retreated inside and since Noble promised a party, I made the call to lay down for a while in the heat of late day.

His guest room is pretty simple, doubling as sort of an office, with a bed, a desk and minimal furniture. The pinstriped sheets smell good -- not like him, but like laundry detergent and I'm in no rush to pull myself out of this naptime cocoon I've burrowed into.

Eventually I shift on my back and summon the energy to find my phone. It's there on the nightstand, showing me it's just past five o’clock. I read a few articles while my brain clears away the drowsy haze and finally I begin to feel like that nap made a dent for the better in my state of mind.

When I make my way out of the room and down the hall, I find Noble in the kitchen. It's smaller than his kitchen in the penthouse, but bright with nearly an entire wall of windows at his sink where he stands washing something.

Under my t-shirt, I absently run my palm up to scratch my chest and offer a sleepy “Hey.”

He turns around, glancing over at me as he sets a cutting board on the countertop. “Hey. Did you get some sleep?”

“I did.” I come closer, swinging my arms across my chest and lean my weight back against the counter’s edge beside him. “Something about a nap after swimming. It's good stuff.”

“Those are the best.”

“What about you?”

“I kicked back for a little bit but not really.”

Nodding, I glance around the room. “Where's Bianca?”

“She went home. Just to get ready and whatever for tonight.” Then he props his hands against the counter, his arms straight and looks at me. There's this thick, uneasy air between us and for a moment, I don't breathe.

I taste my bottom lip and nod again.

Then he just laughs this hiss of air and drops his chin, shaking his head.

“What?” I wonder.

“I’m just-- having some regrets, that's all.”

“What regrets? Me being here?”

“No. More like setting these fucking boundaries with you. As if that's gonna keep me from… y’know.”

“From what?”

He looks up at me and the playful glow there makes my throat feel tight. “Wanting you.”

I can't help it. The corner of my mouth twitches and I set my gaze on him. “But you did set boundaries.”

“Well that was stupid,” he reasons.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because… you leave tomorrow.”

“I know,” I murmur, chewing on my lip.

“And I'm weak.”

A soft laugh escapes with my smile.

“And I miss you.”

“Oh damn.” My brows draw together, teasing him with this judgmental look. “You  _are_ weak.”

“You walk out here all… cute and sleepy, with your hair a mess and I'm just trying to make some damn pesto--”

“I see.” God, I want him too. All this buildup and time apart, and then I finally see him but his sister tagging along didn't exactly make for the reunion I had imagined.

And now we're alone and I can't help but keep my foot on those brakes he insisted on. If only to torture him a bit

Arching an eyebrow, I glance upward and run a hand across my head. “What's going on with my hair?”

“You've got some pretty good sex hair happening.”

Dragging my palm across my face, over my eyes, I hum in amusement. “Yeah I  _wish_ that's what it was from--”

Noble exhales hard, as if defeated, and pushes himself away from the counter. He lets out an exaggerated groan in frustration and it makes me laugh.

“But--” I continue, taking the opportunity to slide into the space he just made. Baiting him, my tongue clicks inside my cheek and I inhale deep. “Someone drew the line on that.”

“No, no I didn't.” He returns to his spot but now he's right in front of me. “I drew no lines.”

I move to stand up straighter, lessening our height difference. “You did though.”

“I take it back.”

“You can't take that back.” I say in a low chuckle. “You decided before I came here--”

He shakes his head. I feel the way his gaze falls down my face, along the column of my throat, then he murmurs, “Don't listen to me.”

“That this visit should be--” And then I lean into him, provoked by how shamelessly needy he's being because I'm into it. “ _Chill, no pressure_  whatever.” With my grip still on the edge of the counter behind me, I ease forward and my mouth just barely ghosts across his.

Easily, he falls against me but I move away before his lips can capture mine. He huffs a discouraged breath. “Yeah, but that doesn't mean lines were drawn.”

“Seemed that way to me.”

“Well fuck that and please kiss me.” The way his lips part and his gaze follows my every teasing move, waiting for me, is hot as hell.

I come closer once more, only tasting his impatient breath before I deny him. “I don't know,” I muse before my head tilts and I find the side of his neck instead. “I'm a pretty good rule follower.”

My lips graze the underside of his jaw and I feel Noble quickly suck in air and hold it. Then I kiss him further down his throat, slowly making my way along the heat of his pulse.

He tips his head back and lets out this gravelly moan that I feel vibrate on my tongue. “I don't know what rules you think you're following, but okay,” he manages.

I almost give in to his familiar taste, the warmth of his skin, and just say _fuck it_ right now. But I can't let myself.

Later his house will be full of people, one of those being his sister, and then what are we supposed to do?

“No, no, no.” I mutter my resolve against his neck then ease back to look at him. “We had it right just doing the friend thing. You were right.”

His hands go to my hair where he combs fingers. I can feel him channeling some frustration in the way he closes his grip there. “I'm fine doing the friend thing,” he sighs. “I just want you on top of me and I want all your clothes off. Whatever you want to call that.”

With a laugh, I glance up at him, then press my lips together. “I would, but-- you know, your sister found that picture, and she'll get suspicious tonight if we don't get ourselves in check here.”

There's a line drawn between his brows when he twists his lips to the side and hums this muffled whimper. “I don't care what she thinks. And you're such a fucking tease.”

One more time, I lean in and snap my teeth on the curve of his neck, where it meets the collar of his t-shirt. I bite there, prompting a loud, throaty groan from him before I pull away. “I am a little bit.”

“Just kill me,” He decides, running his hand over his face and he manages to step back from me. “Like, please.”

I laugh and smack a friendly pat on the center of his chest. “Brakes on, remember?”

“Yeah, I hate it.” He grumbles, scratching a hand through his hair as he peers down.

I push myself off the counter and move around him. “What are you making pesto for?”

He sighs. “Dinner.”

I assess his countertop, the ingredients along with his supplies set out. “There's like, a blender involved. You were getting serious out here.”

“That's a food processor.” He corrects me, a smile finally pulling at his cheek. He returns to the basil leaves he has piled on a paper towel, packing them into the bowl there.

“Oh, excuse me.”

“I didn't want to turn it on while you were sleeping.” He reaches for a cup set aside of nuts and adds them in. “But now I'm realizing that was way too nice of me.”

I smile, fighting the urge to squeeze his side and I lean against the counter instead. “Can I help?”

This humorless laugh huffs out of him and he tries to deny a grin as he points to the back of the house. “Go fix your hair. And put on real clothes so you don't look so goddamn fuckable--”

My teeth dig into my bottom lip, amused by his emphatic instructions. With hands raised in surrender, I start to back out of the kitchen.

“And then come back and mince some garlic.”

I lift one hand, touching fingertips to the edge of my brow in an informal salute. “Yes, sir.”


	20. Chapter 20

“Noble was so nervous about you coming.” Bianca shares this information like she's proud of herself, a teasing shine in her light eyes as she glances between us.

Noble swallows a hard gulp of his cocktail and furrows his brow at his sister. “I was not.”

“He was up on a ladder dusting ceiling fans--”

“Alright,” he cuts her off.

I laugh down at the kitchen counter where I stand beside him. I'm busy on the second small pizza crust Noble has me preparing, pushing it out smooth to the edge of the round metal pan.

He reaches around me for dish of chopped mushrooms and keeps working on his own creation while Bianca merely watches from the other side. “You didn't have to be invited over for dinner, you know,” he tells her. “You could always feed yourself before you come over here and talk shit and drink all my booze.”

“I love when you make pizza though, so you can deal with me.”

“Why were you so nervous?” I wonder, arching a look over to him.

He lifts defensive shoulders. “I wasn't nervous!”

With a laugh, I glance across to Bianca and she shakes her head.

“You're just hanging out for dinner because Jamie's here,” he jabs. “Don't try to make it about my pizzas.”

A gasp squeaks out of her. “Oh, don't even. Been there, done that. Not my type.”

Noble and I mirror each others’ perplexed looks.

“Gross--” He starts.

I blink over at her. “Whoa. Wait a minute.”

She laughs and reaches for the can of Diet Coke on the counter, adding more to the rum and ice in her glass.

“There was no  _doing_ \--” I insist, gesturing a finger in between us. “Let's be clear.”

“Alright fine, we won't go there.” She agrees.

“Jamie's boss told him to hook up with you, by the way.” Noble glances up at her as he works to cover the pizza I just prepped with his wild mushroom-grilled onion combination. “So don't get all full of yourself that you seduced an undercover cop.”

Bianca’s mouth drops open. “Hey.”

“No, no--” I attempt to refute that, but I have to laugh. Dragging the dish towel off Noble's shoulder, I shake my head at him.

“What do you mean your boss told you to?” She questions me. “That's kind of sick.”

“Nobody told me to,” I explain. “But I did have to run it by the lead detective on the case.”

This taunting, loud laugh rolls out of Noble.

“Ew.” She giggles. “What did you say?”

“He said, ‘This Sanfino sister is pretty desperate for a ride’--” Noble chimes in. “‘What should I do?’”

I crack up, backing away from the counter. “Oh my god."  I hadn't started drinking yet, but the two of them had and I’m thinking it was time to catch up.

“I didn't  _ride_ anything,” Bianca maintains and it only makes her brother and me laugh harder.

“Hey, you're the one who claimed  _been there, done that_ ,” Noble contends. “So what am I supposed to think?”

“Alright.” She holds up her hands. “We're leaving that in my past life, thank you.”

“Hey.” Noble nudges my side. “Will you check on the one in the oven? Add some cheese and put it back in for like three minutes?”

I toss the dish towel back over his shoulder and reach across him for the bowl of cheese. “Yep.”

“Thank you.”

“This is a cute little team effort you guys got going on,” Bianca notes.

“Yeah, well you're no help,” Noble says. “So--”

“Hey I intend to contribute in other ways. I invited a girl for Jamie.”

I pause, hoping the heat I feel flare in my gut is because I just opened the oven.

Noble doesn't miss a beat. “Who?”

“Jocelyn.”

“UGH.” He makes no effort to conceal a dramatic groan.

Bianca scoffs. “What?”

I slide the pizza back in the oven and close the door before I turn to them. “Invited a girl for me?”

“She's cute.” She reasons.

“Yeah but you don't have to  _set him up_ , it's a party. Just let him do what he wants to do.”

“It's not a set-up. I'm just saying. She's single, she's hot. He might like her.”

“How do you know I'm single?” I wonder.

She fixes me with this dubious look. “Aren't you?”

I clear my throat. “Well yeah. But maybe I want to keep it that way.”

“I'm not arranging a marriage. But who says you can't get some ass in Miami?”

Over my shoulder, I hear Noble practically choke on his drink. I turn back to glance at him, catching his eye for a moment as one corner of my mouth twitches in amusement. “Ah…” I trail off, sliding a hand down my face.

“I’d question my sister's taste if I were you, Jamie.”

“What, just because Jocelyn rejected  _you_ ,” Bianca reasons to her brother. “She could still be into a guy who isn't, y’know, a shithead.”

With wide eyes, I meet Noble's one more time before I cough out a laugh.

His mouth drops open, an offended line drawn between his brows. “Alright. I'm burning your pizza and you can eat it in the garage.”

I turn back to the oven, chuckling with heavy head. “Oh damn,” I groan, dropping the door open to pull out the first pizza.

“I'm just kidding. You're not a shithead.” With a sweet grin, she slides off her chair and starts off down the hall. “I'm going to the bathroom. I love you, Nick!”

“Fuck off, Bella!” He calls back, taking the two other pans of custom pizza to the oven.

After a moment, the bathroom door closes down the hall and I have to laugh at the both of them. “Why do I get the feeling this party is going to be--”

“A nightmare?” Noble supposes. He makes his way over to me where I stand against the sink. “It will be. Let's leave and get a hotel.”

My tongue lightly teases the edge of my teeth and I lift my gaze to him. “No way. I need to meet this girl who rejected you.”

“Oh right. The Miami ass you’re supposed to get?” He murmurs.

I narrow my gaze at him as a smirk flicks my cheek.

He leans into me and grips the waist of my shorts, his hand quickly slipping under my t-shirt. “I'm going to be drinking a lot tonight, just letting you know. Because I can't deal with that shit.”

All I can do is watch his mouth before it falls on mine.

_Fuck_ it feels so good to kiss him again. I've thought about his mouth for weeks, the controlled way his lips linger soft on mine before he chases me a little farther.

I ease upward, reaching for the back of his head. I taste his tongue, needy for more just when, around the corner, I hear the water turn on.

I let my head drop, digging fingertips into Noble's hair, warning, “Don't get me hard in this kitchen” before I give the side of his head a playful push away.

His hand slides out of my shirt and he fakes a punch to my stomach. “That's all I wanted. I'm good now.”

A soft laugh hisses out of me and I hear the door down the hall open.

We both separate, clearing throats as we turn to the counter. Eyeing the Bacardi amid the small collection of bottles, I take a plastic cup from the stack there and announce, “Yeah I need to start drinking too.”


	21. Chapter 21

“Have you ever seen me cry?” Noble's voice lures my gaze away from the girl climbing the ladder out of the pool.

I turn to see him push through the water and prop his arms on the concrete ledge where he sets his drink.

Running a hand over my wet face, I consider it. “Have I?” I squeeze one eye shut as if that'll help me think more clearly. “I've seen you try to punch me in the face and miss and fall on your ass.”

A sudden laugh sputters from him before the two of us crack up.

We're plastered.

Other than slow sips of bourbon or scotch with my grandpa, I rarely drink hard liquor. When I do, I get a little too honest. Too angry and broody.

But tonight I'm just smashed and loud and hilarious. It must be the rum and the sticky late night air. The throwback music from the speakers surrounding the back patio where a couple dozen random people mingle and shout laughter and splash loud into this pool that glows in the darkness. And apparently, nothing puts me in quite this good of a mood like one particular boy in pineapple swim trunks.

Smiling wide, I dodge the rush of water Noble splashes before I shove him by the chest. “You didn't cry, though!” I add.

“I didn't. But if you fuck Jocelyn tonight, you'll see me cry.”

I wade closer, swiping a hand back through my hair. “Why, you still have feelings for her?”

“That's totally it,” he mumbles into his cup as he lifts it to his mouth.

“Dude I'm not having sex with her. That's not-- I don't do that.”

“You don't do what? Have sex? Ever? With anyone?”

His drunken rambling suppositions just make me laugh into my cocktail. I tip the plastic cup to my lips and swallow a hard gulp but he keeps going.

“Like never? Because you're a virgin. Because you're a priest.”

“Is that what you think?”

“What do you mean you  _don't do that_?”

“I don't have sex with someone I just met.”

He lifts his chin in understanding. “Ah, I see.”

“But why would you cry if I did?” I offer a questioning brow.

He pushes back, setting his drink down before he ducks beneath the surface and springs back up. Swiping a hand across his eyes, he blows water droplets off his lips.  “Because I just would, man, and you know it.”

I feel myself make a face as a smirk twists my lips. “I have no intentions of making you cry at this party,” I tell him, hoping he grasps my cryptic reassurance that this girl is not the one I want tonight. “Nobody wants to see that--”

Nodding, he comes closer and reaches once more for his cup. Around us, the melodic crooning of the familiar Oasis song escalates to the irresistibly heavy electric guitar hook prompting both of our shouted impromptu singing--

_“Someday you will find me!_

_Caught beneath the landsli-i-ide!_

_In a champagne supernova in the sky--”_

I drop back into our conversation. “Are you upset that I was just talking to her?”

“No dude, I don't get like that.”

“I mean, even if I wasn't, y’know, a virgin priest, I wouldn't--” And then I gesture vaguely in the direction she just went and shake my head.

“She wouldn't make the cut?” He finishes for me.

I gulp more of my drink, appreciating the sweet heat that swirls on its way down, and exhale hard. “I don't know--” I mumble with a shrug.

“Do you have to run a background check on people you sleep with first? Do you check to see if they have a record?”

Heavy from my chest, another laugh erupts from me and I shake my head. “Maybe I should.”

“Because you have high standards like that.”

“I do.”

“What if it was someone…” He wades closer to me as I prop myself back against the ledge of the pool. “Who may have had some criminal mischief in their past--”

I hum thoughtfully. “Mischief, huh?”

“And made bad choices. Got mixed up in the wrong crowd.”

“Uh-huh.” I laugh softly, prompting him to continue. “Sounds like trouble.”

“But they're nice and awesome,” he lists, turning so that he matches my position and we’re side by side against the pool’s edge. “And funny but like, in a cool way--”

“Alright. I like that. What else? Can this person cook?”

“Hell yeah man. Good cook. Runs at a moderate pace--”

Tipping back, another laugh shakes my shoulders.

“Not so fast that you feel frustrated.”

“Nice.”

“Good with their hands.”

I blow out a hard breath before I down more of my drink. I ponder the possibilities over a hard swallow. “That's important.”

“Yeah? So if you met someone like that, you'd be down?”

I tilt my head. “Well there has to be some level of attraction, too.”

“Ah, okay.” He nods, gazing out along the pool. “Well this person’s definitely a ten. Total package.”

“Wow,” I muse with a grin, arching my head back against the ledge of the pool. “Then yeah, I probably would be down.”

He turns to look at me. “I'm not talking about Jocelyn, by the way.”

“Who’s Jocelyn?” I can feel the warmth in my own heavy gaze as a smirk curves on my face.

“Damn you,” Noble whispers. Then he lets out this restrained groan as his head falls and butts up against my neck.

I cough out a surprised laugh, his weight tugging me down when he digs his teeth into my shoulder. “Oh shit!” I chuckle.

And then before I realize it, his mouth moves to my ear and the rasp of his voice pulses straight to my groin. “Meet me inside right now.” Then he's quick to shove away from me and swims over to the edge. “I'm going in, I need another drink.”

There I watch him plant his hands on the concrete before he pushes himself out of the pool. Water rushes along the paths between the muscles in his back, down defined valleys and strong curves of his triceps -- and I fucking notice them all -- as he hops out.

I peer up at him and it isn't until I manage a hard swallow that I realize my lips were parted, my mouth open. Watching him snag a towel off the nearby lounge chair, I observe the trail he makes across the back patio, around the crowd gathered at the outdoor table, and past the sliding glass doors into his house.

I duck once beneath the water, holding my breath for a few beats before I push back up and boost myself out of the pool.

I grab another towel and try to urge some feeling into my face. My wet skin pricks with the popping sparks that course through me. This inebriated want is so close to the surface, encouraging that gut instinct that never fails to act when it comes to him.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. It’s adult content warning time. Meaning if you’re not here for butt stuff, go ahead and click back. BUT LET’S BE REAL, IT’S WHAT YOU’RE HERE FOR. Let’s get back to this party. Enjoy!

I have no idea if my pursuit to get inside is as casual as I mean for it to be. There's enough activity around the back of the house that I seem to go unnoticed.

Once I pass through the doors, the striking cold from the air conditioning assaults my senses and I toss my towel over one shoulder.

“Hey!”

My pace is halted when Jocelyn stops me at the kitchen, a newly refilled drink in her hand. “Oh hey,” I manage. Despite my one track mind right now, she's unquestionably attractive.  With light wavy hair and this intricate looking black swimsuit with way too many strings and ties across tanned skin, I tell myself to look away. And then my brain sort of stalls on how impractical a swimsuit like that is until her voice shakes me out of it.

“I was on my way back outside. You coming back?”

“Uh… yeah.” I blink, glancing over to the kitchen counter figuring how I could kill time so that she’d go ahead and walk away.

“By the way, don't go in the living room.” With a lazy giggle, she nods her head toward the room around the corner. “I mean. I don't think everyone here knows you're a cop--”

Focusing on my pour of Bacardi into a new cup, I pause a moment and notice the faint smell of marijuana that lingers in the air. I shake my head because I don't care. And actually the sweet, earthy notes of it smell pretty good and all I want right now is Noble's mouth on mine and I don't know how well I can sustain a conversation with the blonde in front of me.

I laugh softly, adding whatever lime juice concoction Noble had made in this pitcher to my cup. “Everyone here doesn't need to know that. And I don't have a warrant for anyone in this city.”

“That's hilarious.” She reaches across the counter to pick a pretzel from one of the bowls there and pops it in her mouth. “You wanna go outside?”

“Yeah, I'll be--” I answer absently as my gaze flicks up and past Jocelyn.

Suddenly she gasps. “Yes! Oh my god.” Then she grabs her cup and skips off toward the back patio, shouting the lyrics to whatever vaguely familiar hip hop song just started thumping through the speakers.

Nodding in acceptance of that exchange, I shift my gaze to the nearby hallway. The majority of the party goers are outside by the pool, or apparently in the living room. So it seems pretty inconspicuous when I lift my cup to my mouth and head into the hallway toward Noble’s bedroom.

The doorway is cracked. Resting my face against the frame, I mutter in a deep voice into the darkness inside, “Nicholas--”

I hear his soft laugh before he opens the door farther. “Oh hey.”

“Oh hey, Nick” I murmur, pushing off the door frame as I come closer inside the room.

“It's definitely weird you calling me that. Don't call me that.”

“Well I only call you by your real name behind closed doors.”

His reaches over my shoulder and pushes flat against the door behind me until it clicks shut. And I don't miss when his hand slides down and he twists the lock.

He leans into me and I smirk as I fall back against the door, adding just above a whisper, “Oh hey, Noble.”

This insanely sexy little moan hums in his chest before his lips meet mine. I don’t understand how it feels this fucking good to kiss him, like I could do it forever.

I reach for his side and pull him to me, easing away and back again in between grazes of unhurried kisses. I figured I’d come in here and let him tackle me to the bed in the rushed need to get whatever tension, whatever  _unfinished business_  has rattled between us for weeks out of the way.

But it doesn’t feel that way. There’s a need, but it’s not rushed. It’s like this slow unwinding of something that feels endless.

A lazy moan hums in my throat as I fall from his kiss. He tastes like tart citrus and heat and memories that linger in my pulse. “Let me put my drink down,” I tell him, getting rid of the towel from my shoulder.

“Oh well please come in. Allow me to give you the tour.” He grasps the cup from my hand and moves further into his bedroom.

I laugh in the dark room, barely making out through the bluish glow of moonlight his low platform bed. “Nice. I love it.”

“Please have a seat.” His voice is joking as sets my cup on his nightstand. “Make yourself at home.”

“I would, but my shorts are wet.”

He blows out a soft laugh as he approaches me beside the bed. “Come here. Get these off.” Tugging at my shorts, he flicks the tie before he hooks his thumbs in the waist and I angle a bit to get them down.

Once I do, he backs me up until I sink down to sit on the edge of the bed. I go for his shorts, right at eye level, hastily pulling at them until we work them off.

His hands go to my head, tilting it up before I can fully appreciate him as he moves past the shadows. Then he comes closer, slides a knee onto the mattress while the other one straddles my lap.

The room nearly vibrates from the bass just outside, but it's filled with deep, almost broken breaths from the both us.

Noble drags fingers through my hair, tips down and I lean up to capture his mouth with my own. He laughs against me and my lips flick up in a playful smile as I skate the tip of my nose up his cheek.

He tastes me and then leaves. I can play that game easily, holding out with only a tease of my tongue at his bottom lip before he falls hungry on my mouth once again.

Intoxicated amusement rattles inside me as I shift beneath him, angling back where I plant my hands on the bed. As he follows closer, his teeth graze my lips, pinching for a pulsating second eliciting a low groan from me before he releases it.

I sit up a little, trailing my palm around his waist, flat up his back before I hook my grip behind his shoulder and pull him down on me. “You feel good, why do you feel so damn good?” I ask the question in my head all the time but now I say it out loud.

“Me?”

“Yeah you.” And then with my other hand, I reach between us to lightly run my fist up the length of his hard-on.

His face drops to my neck where he muffles a soft groan. “I've thought about you way too much lately.”

“You have? What have you been thinking about?”

He adjusts his knees, leaning forward to urge me onto my back. He comes down on top of me and another lazy laugh blows across my skin. “A lot. You and me and what would happen this weekend.”

“I thought it was supposed to be chill, just friends, whatever the fuck--”

“No, fuck that,” he sighs. With a little hop, he scoots his knees higher and sits up on me. “Unless that's what you want.”

I have to laugh as I adjust underneath him. My palms trail over his thighs before I find his wrists. I wrap my hands there, then spread my fingers where they lace between his.

He leans into me, pinning my hands to the bed.  _Damn_. I bite down on a smile as I arch against him, resisting only a little and answer, “If I said I did, I'd be a liar.”

“So then be honest…” He starts, sinking his weight heavier on top of me and I let out this breathy moan at the way his hip strokes along my dick.

“Okay. I'm feeling very honest.” I let go of his hands and push mine hard up the plane of his back.

“When you've thought about me… were you thinking about things we've done--” He teases my lips again with his teeth, pulling back just as I start to reciprocate. “--Or things we haven't done?” The move makes a cute smirk flick at the corner of his mouth.

A breathy, misbehaving chuckle floats out of me and I tip my head back. Oh god. I can feel the way that desire buzzes inside me and I'd do anything he wanted. “How about  _you_ be honest,” I challenge him. “Since you're the one telling me to put the brakes on one minute, and the next, looking at me like you've never wanted to fuck someone so bad--”

“Goddamn.” He groans, his forehead falls to my chest and he exhales hard. “I've never wanted to fuck someone so bad.”

Hearing the words from him makes me press my lips together to suppress a satisfied moan and I dig my grip in his hair. It's not so wet anymore, soft and thick between my fingers.

“But no no no,” he mumbles as he makes his way down my stomach. “Not now. I'll fuck it up.”

I laugh, moving my hands to fall against my eyes because  _Jesus_ , the room is spinning, but I don't really care. “Look at you with your sensible decisions. What the hell?”

“I'm just aware of how wasted I am and I like you a lot, that's all.” He slinks down and grasps my cock, my core clenching in response. “I’m still gonna wreck you right now though.”

And then I feel the heat of his breath.  He's all over me, slipping me into his mouth, getting my shaft wet with his tongue.

My mouth opens and my head pushes back into the bed. A sigh barely finds its shaky way out of me. Drawing in a sharp inhale, I hold it, hazy and swirling inside me while I disappear inside his mouth.

I mutter a hot  _ah god_  and  _fuck_ , he feels so fucking good. How am I supposed to hold onto this awareness that we're not alone in this house?

And then his other hand has my balls, his palm stroking beneath them. It’s like I could sink, defeated into this bed the way he consumes me, steals every nerve, any ounce of control I may have.

I pick up my head enough to watch him, the way I start to fuck his slick fist, my chest heaving hard breaths in an unsteady rhythm.

He hums an appreciative moan at my movements before he dips his head once more between my legs. There, he slides his free hand along my thigh, urging my knee to steeple on one side of him and my head drops back at the mattress.

I tilt toward him, impatient with a silent wish that he goes exactly where I want him right now.

He breathes another gravelly noise, buries his face farther beneath the stroke of his hand, using his other to part me with his thumb before I feel his tongue along the sensitive seam there.

My lungs fill with a deep breath and I can't let it out. I gulp the air instead and I reach down for his head.  _Do it again_.

For a moment he lets go of my shaft to slide his hands under my hips. He spreads my cheeks and teases the tip of his tongue at the rim of my ass.

With a startled gasp of air that breaks into breathless laughter, my whole lower half jerks in front of him. “Holy fuck,” I practically squeak.

Noble’s vibrating laugh makes me laugh even harder and I start to keel over to my side.

“No?” He wonders.

I consider it as my weary laugh tapers off. “I didn't say  _no_.”

“Maybe?” He props a hand on my knee to urge me onto my back again. “Please?”

I catch my breath and drag my hands up my face with a nod. “Uh-huh.”

He finds his position again, pushes my knee and buries his face once more. I feel his hands, the stroke of his tongue and  _oh my god_ , I might black out because I suck in air but my chest refuses to let me breathe.

Finally I let myself sink against him and I grasp my own cock. His movements are slight, so focused and I’m out of my head it feels unbelievable. Fuck me, any noise I make would be so fucking loud. And when his tongue dips a little further, I have to drop my free arm across my face and let out a desperate groan into my own biceps.

I work my stroke as the pressure from his mouth completely pushes me over the edge. It’s unlike anything I've ever felt. I choke on my own air. I dig my teeth into my arm, tense, and try to hang on, to exist in this euphoric other realm for even a second longer.

Before I can even process how close I am, I'm coming. One fist coaxing a pulsing release while the other grasps who-knows-how-hard into Noble's hair.

I can barely feel my legs when they drop hard to the bed, my heart thudding in every part of me. “How the fuck--” I sigh, reaching up to rest hands in my own hair as I release his.

“Oh-ho-ho…” Noble's trademark little smug laugh echoes down at the end of the bed. “Damn dude.”

I breathe hard. “Shut up.”

He moves up and I look to see him slide in beside me. He groans, clearly impressed and pounds his fist against my shoulder. “Yes.”

“Are you congratulating yourself?” One eyebrow arches as I smile over at him.

“Fuck yeah I am. That was hot.”

“I don't think I've ever come so hard that I bit my own arm.”

With a little noise, he pumps a quick, victorious clench of his arm.

“Alright, that’s enough out of you,” I tell him, shaking my head with a smile as I ease up onto my elbows, my heartbeat still chasing my breath. “And I guess I need to get up.”

“Here.” He rolls over and gets off the bed before making his way to the dresser. There he pulls out a t-shirt and tosses it on the bed. “You can clean up with that.”

I glance down at the plain white shirt and note the aftermath of my orgasm across my stomach. “You sure?”

He shrugs. “Of course.” Then he starts across the room and passes through the doorway to the en suite bathroom. “I’ll be right back, don’t leave me.”

Before he tugs the door closed behind him, I call out, “I won’t. I’m not done with you.”


	23. Chapter 23

I can’t get enough of the sound of Noble swallowing a breathy moan. It's like he’s walking this line of control. How close can he come to losing it only to suck in a gasp of air and trap it, keep it from giving him away.

If he lets go of these sounds that rattle in his chest, we could easily be discovered. If someone happened walk by and pay attention, they'd probably hear Noble's muffled  _fuck_  through the wall.

That wall that separates his bedroom from the far end of the living room is right in front of us.

I could have pulled him back on the bed after he came out of the bathroom, but we ended up here. Him up against the dresser, facing away from me. His hands pressed against the edge where he props himself up, hanging his head.

Me grasping his cock from behind where I stroke him, a tortuously measured grope driven by the heavy exhales he lets escape.

The broad, muscular plane of his back expands against my chest. With my other hand, I slide my palm up the path of his stomach.

“Oh, my god,” he sighs. “I’m mad at you.”

A smile teases my lips and I press them against the back of his neck. “Why’re you mad at me?”

“Because I’m loud and I can’t be loud.” He barely utters the sentiment before it breaks off into a swallowed grunt.

“Oh you’re loud?”

“Yes.”

My free hand trails around his waist, up his back and into his hair. There, I dig fingers, tugging his head back and he coughs out this shameless gravelly moan as it tips to my shoulder.

I tease into the side of his neck, “You can’t be loud.”

He moans again.

Laughing, I squeeze fingers tighter in his hair. “Shh--” I play with him, my slick fist easing up his length, loosely closing around him. My thumb teases the head, circling there, and I know he feels genuinely torn between just wanting to get off and keeping me here at this idle pace forever.

“You can’t be loud with this many people in your house,” I say in his ear. I release his hair and my touch travels down his back once more, then dips along the curve of his ass where I grasp firmly. “They’ll think people are fucking in here.”

He laughs. “You think I care.”

My grip tightens on one asscheek, massaging, while my fist pulls at his shaft, all the way to the tip, then back down. My movements become more steady, stroking with my right hand, slinking fingers of my left hand down his ass. There they explore, tease a little… down, underneath, in between.

I would remind him again to be quiet, but I like the way he sounds way too much. 

He pushes back, angling against me while he holds himself up on the dresser.  “Oh, fuck,” he mutters, dragging out his words into a low groan. Then I hear the way he pinches his lips together and suppresses the rest.

The pace of my fist is more determined now, almost jerking. Just how I like it before I’m close. And my exploring hand slides around to reach beneath his balls, palming them, I want him delirious from the attention.

His breath forces its way out. He utters more praise that nearly gets lost in his exhales. But I don’t miss the whispered, “Fuck, yes--” and the way he trails off in a mumbled mantra of yes-yes- _fuck_ -yes before his head tips back.

I rest my forehead on his upper back and concentrate. I groan just hearing him. Just feeling the way his muscles start to tighten. At the back of his shoulder, I kiss him before my teeth dig into the flexed ridge of his shoulder blade.

And then his body shudders as I finish him off. He tenses and I feel everything about his release. The way his pulse throbs in my hands, the way he comes all over them and I don’t care.

He manages this shaky laugh as he trembles a little, his muscles contracting with an orgasm that won't quit. I hold onto him, still, easing him back to me until it does. 

“Damn,” he breathes. “My legs almost gave out, man.”

I press a kiss on the back of his shoulder. “Yeah?”

He nods and eventually stands up taller. He sighs in agreement, “Yeah.” Then turns around, drops his head to bump against my chest. He touches his lips there and moves past me. “You're one sexy fucker,” he decides. “I mean _good god_.” 

As he makes his way toward the bed, he reaches down to scoop up that same used t-shirt from the floor. He takes a couple swipes at his own hip before he comes over and passes it off. 

“This shirt has seen some stuff.” I take it to clean off my hands and turn for his bathroom. “Remind me to never borrow it.”

He chuckles as he spots his swimsuit on the floor. And just as I grasp the doorknob, we hear a voice call from outside the room, _“Where's my idiot brother?”_

“Jesus,” Noble mutters and all I can do is stifle a laugh as I turn and pull the bathroom door closed behind me.


	24. Chapter 24

“I hate when guys do that shit!”

As I make my way across the back patio, I hear Bianca’s voice.

After coordinating our exits from his room, Noble had slipped out first and I took a few minutes. I see him sitting on the ledge of the pool. He's back in those pineapple swim trunks, with his feet in the water, having a cigarette.

His sister and Jocelyn sit on the edge beside him and I contemplate finding another place to hang out.

“Jamie would never!” Bianca calls out. “He’s not a jerk.”

With a defensive lift of his shoulders, Noble spreads his hands and turns to them. “I’m sorry! Damn.”

“Jamie!” His sister beckons again, prompting Noble to groan in irritation, tipping his head back.  

“Hey,” Jocelyn notes as I approach. “Where’ve you been?”

“I uh--”  _Don’t fucking look at him_. Leaning down to plant my hand on the concrete edge, I kill some time to slip into the water, holding my newly refilled drink above the surface. “I was on the phone.” Then I swallow hard. “I would never what?”

“Ask a girl to send you a hot picture of herself,” Bianca starts. “And then when she does, you just reply with the  _thumbs up emoji_  and that's it. Which is what Nick did to Jocelyn.”

My brow furrows in confusion as I cut my gaze over to Noble. “What?”

He blows a steady stream of smoke between his lips and shakes his head.

“I mean that’s lame, right?” Bianca reaches up, twisting her hair on top of her head before she quickly secures it.

Jocelyn giggles as she glances down at her phone, scrolling through it as if she’s recalling this exchange. “And you wonder why I didn’t call you back last week, Nick. That’s why. I felt like that picture warranted more than a thumbs up.”

Bianca tilts her head as she looks down at me, raising her cup to her lips. “Tell me you’re better at compliments, Jamie.”

“Hey, I’m good at compliments,” Noble insists. “But let's be accurate. I asked you for a picture. I didn't specify  _hot_ picture.”

Jocelyn lowers her chin to her shoulder, lifting her lashes to gaze out at him. “Wouldn't any picture of me be a hot picture?”

He hides the flick of his smile with his cup before he takes a drink and rolls his eyes.

His sister reaches over and flicks the blonde’s hair. “Show Jamie the picture.”

“Wait--” I manage with breathy amusement. All I can do is ponder what the hell Noble’s been doing since the last time I was with him in New York. When did this request for a picture take place? I mean damn. “No-- I just met you.”

Both girls crack up laughing and I can feel the uncertainty line my forehead as I look over at Noble. He glances down to laugh softly, then looks away as he closes his lips around the end of his smoke.

“You’re cute,” Jocelyn says, her giggles tapering off while she studies her phone, then turns the screen to Bianca. “It was this one.”

Bianca takes the phone from her friend’s hand and pushes it toward me.

I blink hard, not expecting them to be so… shameless about this. Does she just show this picture to anyone? All I process is a faceless woman, wearing exactly nothing, lying across a bed on her stomach. The dip of her low back holds my gaze for half a second before it climbs the curve of her rear end, her feet kicked up behind her as if they’re aimlessly swaying.

Then my eyes flick up at Bianca. I’m not sure what she’s asking me.

“If a girl sent you that picture, how would you respond?”

I shake my head, swiping a wet hand up my face. “I don't really use emojis.”

I see Noble chuckle as he takes another drink. Jocelyn’s giggles continue from her perch beside Bianca who huffs up at the sky.

“God. You two. Both of you.”

“I wouldn't complain.” I shrug as my gaze shifts. “I mean, I’d do better than a thumbs up, though. Especially if I  _asked for it_.” I offer a meaningful arch of my brow when I say it.

Pondering my claim over a thoughtful drag, Noble's eyes narrow. “Well maybe I'm not as articulate as you.”

“The question is did you send  _her_ one?” I wonder.

“He sent me a super basic one,” Jocelyn answers for him.

Something's tight in my chest from this entire conversation. It's unexpected and confusing and I'm still not sure what's been going on here. But the more I hear, the more annoyed I feel.

Noble just gives away his attention to anyone, apparently. The dangerous combination of boredom or loneliness when he's naturally charismatic was inevitable. I mean what the fuck am I doing letting go like this, believing he was doing the same just for me?

I tip my cup to my mouth and down another hard gulp of my drink when Jocelyn shows me her phone again.

“Damn. Super basic?” Noble mutters. “That's harsh.”

She turns her head to shoot back, “Harsher than a thumbs up?”

For a moment I worry he had sent her the same picture he sent me when we were on the phone. But I look and it's simply a photo that he took of himself in the car, sunglasses on, as if he was on his way to work or something.

I nod into my drink again and glance over at him to offer a thumbs up high above the water.

He chokes on a laugh as he sucks another drag and swishes his foot toward me through the water.

Considering I can't question what the fuck is going on in mixed company, all I can do is play along.

“Wait she sends you a picture where she's basically naked--” I question. Lazily, I push my hand through the water to return the splash. “And you send back  _that_?”

“No. I sent my picture first--”

“He sent me that picture first,” Jocelyn clarifies. She presents her phone screen again and I glance at the conversation, where he sent the picture along with the message:  _ **Working on a Saturday. Please distract me. I accept pictures.**_

And shortly after, her response came:  _ **Well good morning to you, handsome**_ along with the photo of her in bed. And famously capped off with the thumbs up emoji from him.

Damn. Seeing that kind of hurts.

My foggy head has me wanting to make my way out of this conversation to go sleep somewhere. This is some stupid crap I don't need to deal with and a part of me wants whatever this is with Noble to be done. Surely it's out of my system. 

It was one thing to exist in the vacuum of secrecy and a fancy penthouse and hidden weekends. Just us with no one to distract us or tempt us. But in this version of reality, maybe we have a different story.

I look over at him and can’t tell from the expression on his face -- his eyes a paler green in the glow of strung-up globe lights, the hint of worry lining his brow -- what he wants me to think.

But I can’t let my gaze linger on his. And when he subtly strokes his leg through the water in front of me once more, I have to hold back from touching him, from reaching out to grab his ankle or slide my grip up his calf which is what I’d feel compelled to do if it were just us.

It can’t be _just us_  forever and I need to accept that neither one of us can bring ourselves to indulge such simple compulsions in this existence.

So instead, I push away a little from the edge of the pool and glance over at Jocelyn. I offer her some sort of pleasant attempt at reassurance, “Well he’s an idiot.” But I just mumble it as I move to climb out of the pool.

“All boys are,” Bianca adds, then swipes one finger across the air as if she’s making an insightful point. “No more pictures unless they earn it.”

I have to laugh, feeling the sentiment more than she knows as I reach for my towel to dry off.

“Where’re you going?” Noble speaks up and just the sound of his voice when he asks makes my stomach flip.  _Jesus_.

“I think I'm gonna call it.”

“What?” Bianca chirps. “Booooo.”

Jocelyn tips her face up to look at me. “If I told you you're the cutest boy here, would you stay?”

The compliment, while pretty much empty coming from her, still sort of charms me and I shake my head with a smile. “You guys be safe getting home. It was good to meet you.”

I acknowledge the women but my gaze flicks to Noble, landing on him for a beat longer. Silently, he meets it before I turn toward the house, my subconscious begging like a traitor for him to follow.


	25. Chapter 25

I didn’t expect to fall asleep, but after grabbing a quick shower in his bathroom, I guess I let myself float off to half-consciousness on Noble’s bed.

The sound of his closing a dresser drawer startles me awake and I draw in a sharp inhale as I sit up.

Noble stands at the edge of the bed. “Hey.”

I blink hard in the darkness and mumble, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep in here. I uh--” And then I gesture to the door before I scratch the back of my head. “The guest room door was locked.”

“Yeah, I just checked and discovered that,” he says. “I figured you were in there.”

I merely shake my head.

Exasperated, he huffs and turns away, muttering, “Assholes.” He runs a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes as if he doesn’t have the energy to deal with whoever has barricaded themselves in what was supposed to be my room for the weekend. “We’re fucking… thirty years old. It’s like, if you’re gonna fuck, go do it in your own house, you know? I mean, is this high school? Don’t lock my fucking doors.” His rant trails off as his heavy steps take him out of the bedroom.

After a minute, I hear a pounding on the door down the hall, then Noble’s voice, “Get out, get out, get out!”

I have to laugh in a hard exhale.

“Practically everyone has left,” he announces. “No sleepovers, come on. You guys need a cab?”

I listen while he continues his clearing out efforts. I’m sort of trapped considering all of my clothes are in the occupied other room, and I don’t feel like putting my wet swim trunks back on. So I flip on the dim lamp by the bed and just wait, a bath towel around my waist, and prop myself back against Noble’s pillows.

Soon, he’s back in the room, closing the door behind him. “I’m sorry,” he offers.

I simply look over at him, pressing my lips together, unsure about what specifically he’s apologizing for.

“I um--” He continues, reaching for the boxers from the dresser he had retrieved earlier. “I wanted to get a shower and then… They’re gone.” He points over his shoulder. “If you need into that room. But I was hoping you’d stay in here tonight.”

Swallowing hard, I feel the pulse in my neck, the unease flaring in my jaw. What the fuck am I supposed to say to that? “Go ahead and get your shower,” I tell him before he manages a heavy nod and turns away.

While he's in there, I head over to the guest room, cautiously peering into the rest of the house on the way. I briefly see Bianca who seems to be cleaning and putting things away in the kitchen. She's talking to someone but I don't think it's Jocelyn, and for the most part, everyone has left.

I duck into the other room, find a few essentials from my backpack but I don't want to bring the whole thing to his room. After I get dressed in gym shorts and a clean t-shirt, I make my way back, unnoticed by anyone still in the house.

I’m browsing a few things on my phone when Noble gets out of the shower. He moves around the room, running a towel over his head before he hangs it up and turns out the light in the bathroom.

“I'm still pretty drunk,” he muses.

I set my phone on his nightstand. Shifting onto my back, I rest my arms beneath my head and laugh softly. “Yeah me too.”

“The shower helped a little. I needed it to think.”

I turn my head to look at him. “What’d you think about?”

With the music off outside, it's quiet other than the far away, subtle clink of glass bottles and running water in the kitchen.

“You,” he answers. Then he ducks into a t-shirt, soft with its Velvet Underground album cover faded before heading over to his desk where he turns on his own music. “How I fucked up. How I like you so much it scares me.” He sort of mutters the words while he focuses on the screen of his phone, deciding on the track he wants before he sets it on the desk and the mellow downbeat floats through his speakers.

“You didn't fuck up,” I tell him.

He crosses the room, then comes to stand at the edge of the bed where I lay. “Reaching out to her was like… I don’t know. It’s like after my sister found that picture of you, I sort of panicked. At the reality of everything. And I thought if I could just--” Then he pauses a moment, glancing off while he thinks and swallows hard. “Get into  _something_. With  _some girl_. It’d be so much easier. You know? I’d know what to do. I’d know how to act.”

Slowly I ease up to sit on the end of the bed and I look up at him.

He continues. “Nothing happened.”

Softly, I exhale a laugh. “I don’t care.”

“You don’t care?”

My teeth drag across my bottom lip and I stall with a hot breath. “I mean-- I’m not mad at you or whatever. But look, I don’t know what we’re doing. How to act, what’s off limits. You think I’m any less freaked out?”

“I don’t know. You’re kind of perfect, so I figured it was just me.”

“Noble--”

“If this is you freaked out, you have an interesting way of showing it. It’s like nothing fazes you. I wish I could… keep it together as well as you can. I wish I could just sit there and say  _I don’t care_ \--” When he says it, his voice shifts to an apparent impersonation of me.

“Is that what you think? I just sit around and don’t care?”

“I know you care.” He scratches his head and looks down at the floor. “You’re just so chill about everything and it’s as if… I don’t know, like we could cut ties altogether and you’d process it in this earnest, appropriate way and meanwhile, I’d be like… drinking paint thinner in a ditch somewhere--”

Dropping my head into my hands, I hold it there, a laugh shaking my back. “Stop.”

“You've officially fucked me up is what I'm saying.”

I drag my hands down my face and glance up at him. “If we cut ties altogether, I'd lose my shit, Noble. Don't be fooled.”

He looks at me, pinching nervous lips across one another, then takes a step forward. Pushing the bottom of his foot against my shin, he rocks back a little. “So don't cut ties with me.”

A smile curves my cheek. “I never said I would.” I nod my head to the bed and land my hand there. “Sit down.”

He obliges, lowering himself to the mattress, keeping one foot on the floor.

I turn to look at him and continue. “A lot fazes me. Just looking at that text conversation. That when you were bored at work and you reached out to her and not me. That sucks.” A little confused laugh escapes me. “I mean am I jealous? What a stupid fucking thing to be jealous over, but I guess I am.”

“I’m sorry. Jamie--”

“No.” I shake my head. “I’m not trying to get an _I’m sorry_ \--”

“Whatever I was attempting to make happen with her,” he explains. “That was me trying to lie to myself, I guess.” Then a quiet laugh puffs out of him. “It didn’t work. As soon as she sent me that picture, I was like--” And then he makes this little noise like the wrong answer buzzer on a game show.

A chuckle helplessly rumbles out of me and I shake my head.

He laughs softly and offers a half-hearted thumbs up, then shrugs as if that was the best he could do. “I was like,  _fuck_. I like this fucking guy. I can’t stop thinking about him. And-- I don’t… know what to do.”

The way he says it hurts my heart. Everything I feel for him could sink me it’s so heavy in my chest. I pause for a beat before considering the possibility that’s been in the back of my mind for a while. “I have a hard question but I need you to be honest about it.”

“I don’t like hard questions.”

“I wonder about… the fact that, other than your sister, I’m your only connection to your old self. To New York. To Noble,” I propose. “When you’re with me, you can be who you used to be. I’m someone else you can talk to who isn’t… hotel staff and random strangers who have to call you Nick. And maybe that’s all I am.”

He considers it for a quiet moment before he sniffs a soft laugh. “Jamie--”

I shrug. “It’s valid.”

“Of course I miss New York. But in the last year I had to process everything I left behind. I had to accept that what I had, what surrounded me, was toxic. That I was a pawn. I was too far inside of it to see that growing up, you know? But it never felt right. My whole life, I would look for these little bright spots but there weren’t many. So I did stupid shit and I partied and I hung out with assholes who I knew were disposable. I had that douchey Porsche--”

An unexpected laugh thuds in my chest and I rub my hand across my eyes with a weary groan. “Every time I was in that fucking Porsche, I was sure I was going to die one way or another.”

Tipping his head back, he chuckles and it’s loud and heavy and god, I love the sound of it so much. It makes me laugh even harder. “So  _no_ \--” He tells me. “I don’t miss that life. I don’t miss who I used to be.”

“Give your old self some credit, though.”

He simply shrugs with a deep inhale. “I'm good where I'm at now.”

I nod and feel the flick of a smile at my lips and my voice is soft when I tell him, “I like who you are now.”

This exaggerated groan rattles his throat and he slumps over as if the simple sentiment hurts. Then he falls toward me so that his head lands in my lap and he shifts to get comfortable on his back.

“And I don't know what to do either.” I prop one hand behind me on the bed and with the other, trail fingers across his hair while I talk. “I never thought I'd be… involved in something like this. With a guy. With you. Believe me, I've analyzed everything about this, just going in circles. And it always comes back to just… I like being with you, and you crack me up, and you make me nervous, and you're cute and I get all--” I pause to inhale a shaky breath. “When I'm around you. So… I'm not chill about everything. Not at all, man. I don't know what to do with all that.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. His chest expands with a deep inhale before one curious eyebrow arches. “How do I make you nervous?”

“Good nervous. I can’t explain it.”

“Well you have this very… disarming way about you,” he muses, tilting his head on my thigh to glance up at me. “And I hate it.”

With a faint thud, I flick the top of his head with my finger.

He smiles. “That’s probably a valuable asset, huh? You could get a bank robber to give up his weapon just by being all, ‘Hey man, my name’s Jamie. Don’t do this,' and he’s like, ‘Okay, Officer, you’re right.’”

A lazy laugh rolls out of me as I aimlessly rake patterns in his hair with my fingertips. “Yep. That’s how it usually goes.”

“I like when you tell me I’m cute.”

“You’re very cute.”

“If I told you you’re the cutest boy here, would you stay?” He wonders, a teasing echo of Jocelyn’s question out by the pool.

I reach over and pinch his side and he flinches, his chest rattling with a low laugh.

“I did feel a little possessive when she said that though,” he admits. “I was like, yo take your generic naked selfies somewhere else. That’s  _my_ cutest-boy-here.”

I’m convinced my heart actually flips when he says it. There’s no other way to explain that kind of sensation, the swooping up and down in a heated freefall. I look down and my smile twitches with my amusement. “Am I?”

He looks up at me. “What, mine?”

I nod. “Mm-hm, yours.”

“I want you to be.” He reaches to find my hand, his fingers sliding through mine as he tugs and drapes my arm over his chest. “I know we don’t know… what we’re supposed to do--”

Leaning over him, my face dips and I murmur, just before my lips meet his, “I think I know.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another heads up for major adult content. :)

“Should we do a shot? We should do a shot.” My breathy suggestion is hot on his mouth. Planting my hands on either side of Noble's shoulders, I push myself up a little. The sting of heat throbs in my lips, but really I feel it everywhere.

Noble swallows hard, his chest rising and falling from underneath me. “Are you thinking you need a shot?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Yeah, me too.” And then he pushes himself up and I shift as he makes his way out of bed. “I’ll be right back.”

“Dude, put clothes on,” I tell him, amused as he heads to his bedroom door in only a pair of grey boxer shorts.

“It’s my house.”

My pulse is buzzing too hard for me to really care and I tip over, letting my weight fall heavy onto the bed. I push the heels of my hands against my eyes and manage a deep breath.

We’re about to do this for real. It’s everything I want, but it’s still this abstract concept, possibilities floating around in my brain like puzzle pieces that I’m scared to let fit together. Because this is more than just getting each other off.

I can’t dwell on it that way. I can’t let it consume me like some big deal. I just want him every way I can think of.

He's back after a minute and I hear him close and lock the door. Then he comes further into the room and sets a bottle of Captain Morgan and two plastic cups on the dresser.

I get up off the bed to join him for a drink. “Is anyone still here?”

“Bianca’s in the pool.”

I nod as he passes me a shot’s worth, then picks up his own cup.

He looks at me, slanting an eyebrow. “Are you good?”

“Good how?”

“Or are you pretty fucked up?”

“No,” I assure him. Squinting one eye to consider it, I glance up at him and nod slowly, “Yes,” before I touch the rim of the cup to my lips and tip back the spicy rum.

He follows suit, the both of us wincing at the slight burn before he lets out a hot exhale. “Yeah, so am I.”

“But I'm fine, I mean. I want you and--”

Taking my cup, he stacks it with his and leaves them on the dresser before he steps forward. His hand holds the side of my head and he dips down to touch his mouth to my neck.

A heavy sigh deflates my shoulders and I feel myself sway into him as I keep talking. “And if I left here without… doing all that I want-- with you… I'd regret it.”

He nods against me, a throaty hum vibrating on my skin as he backs me up and we sink to the bed again.

Urging himself on top of me, his fingers curl in my hair and he manages a deep inhale. “How?” His voice barely floats along my ear. “I mean. How do you want… me?”

“We should figure that out.”

Easing away from me, his gaze meets mine, dark and heavy with a questioning flicker.

I swallow hard. “Right? Y’know, before we get too--”

He lets his forehead fall until it tips onto the side of my head. “Whatever you're imagining right now, I probably want it.”

In an exhale, my shaky laugh escapes me. My hand dips down the back of his underwear and I push it off, gripping hard and impatient at the curve of his ass.

A satisfied sigh groans in my ear and he rocks his hips against mine. “Maybe we could both... try…”

“Yeah?”

He pulls back and narrows a discerning gaze at me. “I'm talking about fucking. You know that right?”

Coughing a surprised laugh, I reach out and hook my arm around his neck to pull him against me. “I know.”

“Sorry.” His drunken chuckles make me laugh harder. “If you don't want me to say that--”

“No definitely say it.” I murmur the words into his shoulder. “And please fuck me.”

He lets out this low moan as his weight sinks on top of me. He kisses me hard and we finally let our intoxicated honesty take over. That lost feeling that always consumes me when I'm this close to him is even more intense, as if he could have every piece of me and I wouldn't miss it because I have him.

I want to feel him inside me. When I've imagined him and me like this, my thoughts had wandered there. At first entertaining the possibility, but then growing sort of desperate to indulge it.

We work each other up long enough. Now that I know where this is going, I can't think about anything else and I don't want him to come any other way.

Once that admission is made, we're a blur of searing hot breath and needy hands everywhere. Boxer briefs pushed down the bed. From underneath him I stroke his hard-on. He urges himself against me, into my grip, and he's so damn hot, and eager, and I’ve stopped trying to figure out how it is he owns me this completely.

“Hang on, hang on,” he rattles just before he shifts off of me, climbing over the edge of the bed. “I have stuff.”

My chest heaving, I glance over to watch him produce a small bottle from his nightstand, then he tears a wrapped condom from its foil strip and pushes the drawer closed.

“You’re sure?” He wonders as he returns to the bed.

I push up into a sitting position. “I wouldn’t say  _fuck me_  if I wasn’t sure.” Then my gaze falls down the length of him, his broad chest, his torso, his large hand that loosely grips his straining shaft. “Although, I’m looking at your dick and I mean, I want it. But good luck with that, because I’m skeptical--”

Laughing, he lays down beside me. “Dude, I’m not gonna like, shove it in--”

“Oh my god.” I say the words in a weary groan and fall to my back. “Don’t  _shove_ anything. I’ll probably pass out.”

He keeps laughing, letting one arm fall across his eyes. “We don’t have to--”

“No, I want to.”

“We can switch,” he offers. “I’m down for it--”

“I want it, I want,” I assure him, turning to lean over him, shutting him up. I press a palm on his chest and sink my mouth on his.

He sighs against the kiss before he leans up a little to meet me. I can taste the heat of a night of drinking, of his urgency.

I like asking for it, but I can take over too. I drag my teeth over his bottom lip and shamelessly bite it, leaving him with a faint tug before I let go.

His moan is like the flag being dropped and he presses into me. He grips my side, urging me closer at my hip.

Pulling away for just a moment, he reaches over, further up the bed where he had left his lube.

I lean in and pinch my teeth one more time on his chest. “Do you want me to turn--”

“Not yet,” he breathes. “Come here.” And he pulls me closer, one of my thighs slipping over his. His touch skims the curve of my ass, gripping there before a finger grazes between my cheeks. It skates the path there a few times until I sink my weight heavier against him.

My leg hitches up higher, my hard-on rocking at his hip, and I know the groan that floats from my chest is loud when the slick tip of his finger teases me.

With soft strokes,  _fuck_ , I feel like I could come already. My muscles start to unwind. Where there were tense, popping sparks in my veins, now they’re just melting.

I kiss him hard. I’m loud again, burying a groan in his mouth when I feel his finger start to press inside me. I fall off his kiss just to murmur hot breath against his neck. “Fuck. Oh my god.”

He moans his own appreciation. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah.”

And when his touch sinks further, I shift my weight and climb all the way on top of him, my knees on either side of his hips.

On his back, he uses his free hand to grasp my cock between us, while his other arm reaches around to continue working his finger in my ass. Tentative strokes gradually dip further inside me.

I didn’t anticipate how good the slickness would feel. His fist idly pumping my shaft, I rock into it, then back against his other hand. By now, he’s eased what seems like the whole length of his middle finger in me and I’m fucking on the brink, it feels so good.

I keep pulling my mouth off of his to moan hot against his shoulder, mumbling curses into his smooth skin, where despite his shower, I can still taste the warmth from a day in the sun.

“Noble, I’m gonna come--  _holy fuck_ \--” I can barely finish the warning before I cough out, drop my head and feel my abs tighten on top of him.

My whole body tenses as he works me to a climax that overcomes me and I swear there’s a moment where I can’t see or hear anything but blackness and the rush of my own pulse.

His fist strokes until I finish -- on his chest, I guess. I can barely process anything as my heart beats in my ears and I can’t move.

“You--” he chuckles underneath me. “When did you get so loud?  _God damn_.”

I pick up my head and work to slow my breathing. “Was I loud?”

“Oh-ho. I appreciate how  _vocal_ drunk Jamie is,” he teases, shifting on his back and he blows out a hard breath. “Man.”

Slowly, my back quakes with my lazy laughter and I move off of him to his side. “I wasn’t trying to be loud. But that’s-- I’ve never… I didn’t know I could come that hard. And sorry.” I glance over at him. “Where’s that fucking shirt? I didn’t mean--”

“If you think the fact that you came on me is going to gross me out, don’t.” He turns toward me. “I don’t fucking care.”

Amused, I tip my head back on his bed and heave another deep breath. “Okay good. Me neither.”

“Alright,” he sighs, rolling against me until I shift over and start to turn on my side away from him. “Can I please get a piece of this ass now? I’m sufficiently tortured, you fucking tease.”

I crack up into the sheets. “I’m not!” I insist, looking back over my shoulder. “I’ve fucking asked for it. My god. Come get it.”

His loud laugh behind me makes me smile. He dives forward, pressing a hard kiss into the side of my neck before he backs away for a moment.

The condom wrapper tears and I hear him work to adjust himself. And then he’s pressed up against me. His lips touch the curve at my shoulder as his hand slides down my back, over my ass and between my legs.

I move and arch back, but it takes some concentration to get where he wants me. I glance behind me to see him positioning himself. Another slick stroke of his finger in an attempt to get me ready.

He hums eager praise and I swallow hard. And when the sensation is replaced by the considerable tip of his cock, I immediately flinch away, nearly jolting off the bed. “Fuck, oh my god, no way.”

“Are you okay?” He laughs. “Look-- I won’t--”

“No, no I’m sorry,” I tell him. I adjust, and with a quick shake of my head like I need to psych myself up, I move to turn over on my stomach. “I need to just suck it up and do it.”

“ I don’t want you to just  _do it_. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“No, please.” My face falls to the mattress and I muffle my request there in the sheets. “Please. I was laying weird. Try it this way.”

“No.” He tips over so his forehead presses into my back, his laughter dancing across my skin. “No, I can’t. You just about catapulted yourself off of my bed and I’m gonna be real, I was like, barely in.”

“Please?” I whimper, tilting my hips up and down on the bed.

“God, I never imagined I’d say no to you begging for anything,” he muses, then gets to his knees and makes his way behind me.

I reach over to grab the bottle of lube he had left on the bed and pass it back to him. “Then don’t say no.”

“Mm.” With a thoughtful hum, he takes it, and after a moment, I feel him tug my hips back toward him.

I lift up again until I’m propped on my knees. I let myself exhale into the bed, resting my forehead there where I close my eyes and tell myself to relax.

I feel Noble take his time, parting me, circling the tip of his thumb at my opening and a rumbling groan swirls in my throat.

Pushing back, I’m impatient for him. But again, after a misplaced nudge that he steadies before easing the head of his cock just right there, I jerk away and collapse to the bed.

“No-no-no-no, okay, I can’t,” he insists, backing away.

I turn over onto my back. “Dude, I’m sorry.” With hands pressed into my forehead, I don’t know why I can’t go through with something I want so bad, which probably makes me even more tense. But the sensation is far too much and I don’t know how the fuck I’m supposed to do that.

“Don’t be sorry!”

“It’s not like I don’t want to,” I manage. “I do.”

“I know you do--”

“Fuuuuck--” I just groan and it makes him sputter this laugh and fall over beside me. “No, I want to. Do it.”

Arching his head back, he holds his hands up. “No fucking way.”

“Maybe we’re too drunk.”

“You think?”

Another laugh rattles out of me and I turn toward him.

He taps the palm of his hand over his stiff fingers. “I’m calling a time out. Don’t fucking tell me to put it in your ass again,” he jokes.

“Are you kidding? After all that, I’m gonna make it happen.” I move to sit up on the bed. “Are those people still in your living room? Maybe if I go smoke some weed with them--”

“Jesus Christ,” he cackles up at the ceiling. “You are cut off. And no, they’re not here.”

My heavy head tilts to look at him. “So then what do you suggest?”

He glances up at me. The flick at the corner of his lips charms me, and if I didn’t know better, I’d be certain I’m in love with this guy in this exact moment. What he does to my heart is ridiculous.

“I suggest we put some clothes on and go hang out in the kitchen,” he says.  “Because I’m starving.”


	27. Chapter 27

 “Is this a blow torch?” I turn the small, but heavy duty looking device in my hand to examine it. “In your kitchen?” 

“Dude.” Noble’s quick to intercept before I can play with any buttons on it. “Don’t set the house on fire. But yes, it’s a blow torch.” 

“What the hell?” I laugh as I retrieve two cups of water for us, passing one to him. “What, for like, making somebody talk? For  _making amends_ … the old way?” 

He lets out a loud laugh and shakes his head. “More like for caramelizing sugar.” He flicks a switch on it and presses a button on the back, igniting the end with a blue flame. “I don’t know who you think I am.” 

“Ooh, let me see.” 

 Chuckling, he releases the button before he passes the torch to me. “I’m putting the safety back on.” 

 “It has a safety?” I take it, flicking the knob myself before I light it. “What do you make with this?” 

“I use it for crème brulée, mostly--” 

I peer up at him, a grin slanting on my face. “You don’t make fucking crème brulée.” 

“Are you questioning whether I’ll make crème brulée at two o’clock in the morning?” He blinks at my doubtful accusation and grasps the blow torch back from my hand. “Because I definitely will and you’ll definitely fall in love with me.” 

A smirk curves to my cheek when I look at him just before I hear the dramatic gasp from the hallway around the corner. 

“Please, please,” Bianca’s voice floats into the kitchen. “Oh my god, please make crème brulée. You’re my favorite brother.” 

She walks in, wearing a loose, short dress over her swimsuit as she carries a few random cups that she takes to the trash. Straightening up, she lets out a deep sigh as she joins us. 

“I was questioning whether he really knew how to make it,” I tell her. 

“He does,” she notes. “But it takes too long.”

“That’s true,” he murmurs before he steps over and drops a kiss on the top of Bianca’s head. “Thanks for cleaning up.” 

“Sure.” Then she glances over at me and I don’t miss the way she takes note of the simple gym shorts and t-shirt I’m wearing. “What have you guys been doing?” 

Noble goes to work filling a pot at the sink. “Hanging out.” 

“Not with me you haven't been.”

“No, not with you.” 

“Having a boys’ club meeting?” She wonders, glancing over to me, one eyebrow arched. “No girls allowed?” 

I feel the feigned innocence line my forehead, but my smirk betrays it. “Something like that.” 

I hear Noble’s quiet laugh where he stands at the stove, then the click of his gas burner. 

“What’s that mean?” 

“Nothing,” I insist with a shrug. 

“Were you guys making out?” She moves around to sit at one of the pub chairs on the other side of his countertop. “I have my suspicions.” 

“What if we were?” He shrugs, then turns around, propping his backside up against the refrigerator. 

This noise, like a squeak of disbelief, escapes my throat and I glance over at him. 

“Then I would be validated in my suspicions,” she answers. “And Jocelyn would owe me twenty bucks.” 

I cough out a laugh, crossing my arms over my chest. “Wait, what?” 

Before we left the bedroom, Noble and I briefly mentioned whether this was real. Was it a thing we were telling people? It's definitely real. And if that's the case, that meant living with this honestly.  _Bianca might be the easiest first person to tell_ , he had admitted as he threw on his t-shirt and ran a hand through his hair. 

With a nod, I reasoned with this.  _Test the waters_. 

We weren't trying to publish some newsletter about our relationship. Noble knows I'm not ready to say anything to my family. We need time to be what we want to be and get comfortable with it before I make some dinner table announcement. 

_Let's see how close to a stroke I get telling Bianca about us before I worry about anyone back home._  

“I bet her twenty bucks that you guys were in Noble's room getting it on when we went something like half an hour with no sign of you,” she explains. 

My mouth opens in amusement and I turn my gaze to Noble who just presses his lips together. 

Drawing in a deep breath as if he's going to respond to that, he turns to the refrigerator instead. He pulls it open and retrieves a couple different blocks of wrapped cheeses. “You guys like mac and cheese, right?” Then with a heavy close of the door, he turns around and slumps over, cracking himself up. 

The reaction makes me laugh too and I bend over to rest my head in my arms on the countertop. 

“Tell me!” Bianca begs. 

“I guess she owes you twenty bucks, Belle,” he tells her. 

I hear the incredulous note in her voice. “You're fucking with me.” 

Standing upright, I look to him with a deep breath. “I love mac and cheese.”

“I'm gonna finish it off with my blow torch just for you, man.”

“I look forward to seeing that.”

“A little toasty mac and cheese.”

“I'm excited.” 

Bianca pounds her fist on the counter. “You jerks, tell me the truth!” 

“I did!” He grins back at her over his shoulder. “I said it sounds like you won your bet.” 

“So…” Her gaze narrows over to me. “You're confirming that you two hooked up tonight?” 

I look at her, feeling a smile twitch on my lips before I simply raise one interested eyebrow. 

“Yes or no?” She presses. 

“Affirmative.” 

Seemingly dumbfounded, she spreads her arms and glances between us. 

All I can do is laugh and look over to Noble for further explanation. 

“You can't be serious,” she decides with a shake of her head. 

“Look,” he says. “We're not gonna makeout in front of you to prove it or anything.” 

I watch him set up a makeshift prep station where he starts to shred a block of hard cheese. “Should you be drunk and using a cheese grater?” I ask. 

“I've been drunk using a cheese grater like half my life, dude.” 

Laughing, my hands clap together once and I make my way over to lean against the sink. “You're gonna grate your finger off.” 

“I assure you I won't.” 

“You know they make macaroni and cheese that comes in a box,” I taunt him. “Like for when you're drunk or for regular people who don't want to grate fresh cheese --” 

He smacks his block of expensive looking cheese down and sets a hard look on me that only prompts an amused curve on my face. “First of all, I always want to grate fresh cheese. Nice to meet you,” he starts. “And second, I don't know what kind of animals raised you. But if you talk about macaroni and cheese from a box in my house again--” 

I look up at him, my nose scrunching with the face that I make. 

A reluctant smirk sneaks across his lips and he returns the look before he glances back down to his grating efforts. 

“Oh my god, you really did,” Bianca muses from her post. 

He laughs and assures her, “I was never fucking with you.” 

Tipping my cup of water to my mouth, I meet his gaze for another unspoken exchange in our little corner of the kitchen. My heart is beating in my throat and I manage a cooling swallow before I peer down at the floor, chuckling to myself.  

She offers a stunned laugh. “Noble--” 

“Yeah?” He answers. 

“How long have you-- I mean--” 

Lightly, I pat him on the waist while I move past him toward the stove. “Hey, your water is boiling. Want me to add the noodles?” 

“Yes, please.” 

“Wait, wait,” she cries. “You can't drop that on me and then just go make your pasta.” 

“We haven't--” He exhales in amusement while he works his way back to the refrigerator to pull out the milk. “Y’know, told... anyone.” 

“I figured you're both just _that_  drunk, but are you saying it's more than just tonight?” She wonders. 

“Uh, yeah.” 

Her hands drop to the counter again and she leans forward. “You're serious!”

Noble pauses to turn and face her a moment. “Yeah. A hundred percent.” 

The corners of her open mouth tic upward. “Since when?” 

“Since…” Then shaking his head, he glances at me. A deep breath fills his chest. “I don't know.” 

“Since he was Jimmy?” 

“No.” We say at the same time. 

“No,” Noble repeats. “It's fairly new. We're just… seeing what happens. How long are you going to keep your mouth open?” 

“I can't close it. I'm… I'm in shock.” 

The two of us simply laugh while Noble returns to his saucepan on the stove.

“Well you're the only person we've told,” I say. “So if you can't handle it--” 

“I can handle it!” She insists. “I just need the full story. When? How did it happen? Have you two like, been out on a date? Who kissed who first?” 

A grin slanting on my face, I look back to Noble to see if he wants to indulge all those questions.

“When?” He starts. “Around the end of summer. How did it happen? I invited Jamie over for dinner that night someone called the cops on our party. No intentions. Just honest… y’know, wanting to catch up.”

“Yeah right.” Bianca smirks. 

I look to her with an innocent shrug. 

“He did look cute in his uniform, though,” Noble adds. 

“I'm going to fall off my chair!” She announces as she smacks her hand once more on the counter. Tipping her head back she lets out some noisy combination of a cackle and a groan. 

“She's handling it really well,” I note. 

“No, I am!” She giggles. “It's just surprising, that's all. And sort of adorably hilarious. I've never heard my brother talk like this. Okay then what? Let me guess. Noble cooked for you.” 

“Because I like to,” he spoke up. “Not because I was trying to get some.” 

“He did cook.” I laugh. “But nothing happened. That smells so good, by the way. I'm really hungry.” 

Amid all this discussion, Noble manages to stir his milk and cheeses over the heat of the stove. After a minute, he drains the macaroni noodles and combines it all in a dish. 

His sister continues, “Well when did it go from casual, just wanting to catch up to like… um, hi we're gay now?” 

Both Noble and I sputter drunken laughter. I run my hands up and down my face with a weary groan as I round the counter to have a seat beside Bianca in another chair. 

“Alright, you don't need to know _that_ much of the full story,” I tell her. 

Noble interjects, “I was going to bake this for like, twenty minutes--” 

“Booo.” My intoxicated hunger protests. “No.” 

“But I won't. You're far less patient when you're drunk.” 

“It just smells good,” I manage. 

“It really does.” Bianca agrees. “You're killing me.” 

He reaches for another dish and sprinkles a handful of breadcrumbs overtop of the creamy mac and cheese. 

“Blow torch. Blow torch--” I begin chanting, pounding my palms on the counter before Bianca joins in. 

“Blow torch! Blow torch!” We annoy him with our insistence but he can't help the entertained smile that surfaces. 

Grasping the device, he flicks the switch on his torch, igniting the flame which garners obnoxious applause from us. 

He drags the blue flame along the breadcrumbs until they turn a crisp, golden brown, releases the button and steps back. “There you go. Two a.m. macaroni and Gruyère cheese topped with toasted parmesan breadcrumbs for my two favorite drunk jerks.” 

“Yay!” Bianca cheers and the both of us have to laugh at our over the top appreciation. 

*** 

“I kissed you first,” Noble insists. He leans forward on the couch to set his bowl next to my empty one on the coffee table. 

Considering it, I ease further down into the couch cushions. “I recall it being pretty mutual.” 

“Where?” Bianca pulls her fork from between her lips where she sits with her feet pulled up in the nearby overstuffed chair. “In the penthouse?” 

“Yeah.” 

She points her fork at me. “You said nothing happened that night.” 

“The kiss happened in the morning,” Noble clarifies. 

“You spent the night?” Her eyes widen as she takes another bite of her mac and cheese. 

“In the second bedroom,” I contend. “It was a late night.” 

With a knowing laugh, Noble scratches his head before laying his arm across the back of the couch. 

I stretch one leg out where it reaches the chair she's in and push my foot against her knee. “What's with all the questions?” 

“Um excuse me.” Her leg pushes back against me. “I'll ask as many as I want. You and my brother are screwing and my mind is blown. I get an all-access question pass.” 

“It  _was_  mutual,” Noble recalls. “But I made the move. I don't think you would have if I hadn't.” 

“Yeah, I don't know.” I ponder it. 

“You had never been with a guy before,” she supposes.  

I shake my head. “No.” 

“Kissed a guy?” 

“Nope.” 

“Because I know Noble hadn't.” 

He confirms. “Nope.” 

“Wow.” She sighs. “Damn, that's like… and you didn't freak out?” 

I laugh softly and shift back, my head against Noble's side. “I freaked out later.”

“Are  _you_  freaked out?” Noble questions his sister. 

She tilts her head and looks at us, the quirk of a smile at her lips. “Of course not.” 

“Good.” I can hear the quiet solace in his voice. 

Suddenly, she sucks in a noisy gasp. “The picture on your phone!” 

I look at her, my lips twisting but a mischievous grin surfaces anyway. 

Noble’s head falls on mine and he laughs into my hair. 

“It was  _you_.” Her wide eyes accusing. 

With a shrug I glance up at Noble. “You never know with this guy. People love sending him pictures.” 

His hand drops to my head where he rocks it a bit. “He'll try to deny it but that was him.” 

“Yeah, that was you.” She decides with a nod and narrows her eyes. “That was a hot picture. Damn, Noble I'm jealous.” 

I chuckle and rub my hand into tired eyes. “Oh god.” 

“Did you text back a thumbs up?” She teases. 

He tips his head back with a loud laugh. 

Reaching back, I lightly scratch one finger under the ridge of his jawline and complain, “Yeah I didn't get a thumbs up. What's up with that?” 

“Holy shit, you guys are cute,” she whines the sentiment before she pokes out her bottom lip and picks up her phone that lights up on the table. “My car’s almost here. Ugh. I need to get my ass home.” 

“You're welcome to stay over if you want,” her brother offers. 

“Even though I know the guest room will definitely be free--” She arches a knowing eyebrow. “I'll pass. I want my own bed. Plus, I mean, you guys are cute but I don't know if I'm quite ready to overhear just how cute you're going to get in a little bit. So…” 

“Oh please,” Noble groans. “Get out then.” 

“Thank you for the party though. And the food was divine.” With a stretch, she pushes herself off the chair. “And I'm very happy about everything I've learned tonight. I'm happy for you both. I hope you are.” 

I manage to get myself up off the couch and meet her for a hug. “Me too. Thank you.” 

After I release her, she reaches up and swings her arms around Noble's neck. He sort of dives against her, pulling her into his chest as he ducks his head and just lets it hang there next to hers for a quiet moment. 

It's one of his all consuming, gracious hugs that's almost needy at the same time. She strokes between his shoulderblades and her eyes close. 

Something about the unspoken exchange makes this heavy heat swell in my heart. A smile tugs at the corner of my lips before I glance down and remember his sister is all he's got. 

He mutters something right at her ear but I don't make it out. I just hear her murmur, “I know” into his shoulder before her fist squeezes his t-shirt. “Love you.” 

“Love you. Will you text me when you get home?” 

“Of course,” she assures him before she turns for her phone and moves through the house to collect her things. 

I help by taking the empty bowls to the kitchen on our way to the door. Noble and Bianca leave each other with one quick kiss on each other’s cheeks before she shows herself out. 

“Have a safe trip back to New York, Officer Reagan,” she tells me, teasing, “Send my love to the ever so accommodating NYPD.” 

I have to laugh. “Will do.” 

Leaving me with an amused smile, she turns to leave, calling out, “Goodnight lovebugs!” before her brother assesses the ride waiting at the end of his front walk, and holds out until Bianca waves back him in reassurance and climbs in the back seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an FYI -- I'm ontherockswithsalt on tumblr! If anyone wants to pop over there to say hello. (And I typically post chapters there first, but I'm trying to get better at keeping up over here). Thanks!


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexual content ahead. :) Enjoy!

“What about this one?” He wonders. Noble leans closer and traces fingertips just above my right eyebrow.

Propping my head up where I lay in bed beside him, I ponder what the scar could be. “I was pushed down a flight of stairs. On a bogus 911 call.”

“Damn. You and your head injuries.”

I smirk. “Does that explain a lot?”

“Must have a pretty thick head.”

“You're not the first person to accuse me of that.”

“What happened here?” He moves on to another remnant of an injury, this one on my left cheek.

“Oh.” I swipe my thumb over the spot to remember. “That was your boy Tesla. My face caught his watch.”

Noble’s brows pull together, a shiny flicker in his gaze before he mutters, “Bastard.”

Managing an almost sad smile, I exhale a soft laugh. “Yeah, well.”

“I'm sorry.” He blames himself for introducing me to Johnny, for weaving all of us together too tightly which ultimately wound up getting the man killed.

We've talked about it before. We've discussed what happened during that whole operation and I've had to remind him over and again that nothing was his fault. “Hey, if this scar is all that remains from that bullshit beat down, then I'm doing alright.”

“I've never noticed it until now,” he says. He reaches for my face and skates his thumb along my cheek. “You can't really see it unless you're this close.”

Ducking my face down, my forehead falls against the edge of his jaw and I smile there. “Is my face busted enough for you?”

“You look really good for someone who's been hit in the face so many times--”

He can barely finish the teasing insult before grip digs into his side and he flinches against me. His surprised laughter cuts off his words and he rolls onto his back. “Wait,” he complains. “I was working my way down.”

“Mm yeah?” I mutter as I follow against his side before my lips fall on his. The way we move in an easy tangle of limbs keeps us tucked against one another.

Idle hands spend the morning telling secrets across heated skin. Fingertips trace the lines, the slopes, the scars on my body like a map he wants to commit to memory. Favorite places to visit. The ones he’ll return to.

I used to feel so lost when I kissed him. But this morning it’s like his lips ground me. His curvy mouth and the teasing stroke of his tongue lure me exactly where I’m supposed to be -- with him. Sustained by the spark that feels so good, the way it knocks around like a pinball inside my chest.

It’s probably late morning by this point, but the day’s expectations, its routine doesn’t exist for us in this bedroom. It could be the middle of the night, it could be lunch time, I wouldn’t know. A day’s never seemed like such an abstract concept for me.

But there’s always that squared off reserve of good judgment that would never leave my brain even if I wanted it to. It pricks me at the base of my neck to keep me from wandering too far.

Slowly, my kiss eases away and I blink my eyes open, my gaze finding his. I can feel my heart beat in my lower lip, reminding me of how much it's been used.

A slow exhale leaves his nose and I admire the glow that catches in thick, flitting eyelashes. “God,” he breathes. “You’re such a dreamy little fuck.”

I can’t help the laugh that thuds in my chest and I shake my head, glancing down to hide my smile. “I thought you already  _worked your way down_  on me this morning.”

A grin lights up his face as he arches his neck back on his pillow. “What do you expect me to do when you come out of the shower looking the way that you do? You knew what you were doing.”

“I always know what I’m doing.” I mumble the words onto his chest before I tilt my face against the firm plane there to glance up at him.

“Yeah?” He wonders, a smiley twitch at his lips. “Alright, how much longer until you need to be at the airport?”

With a shake of my head, I turn back to the golden path of sun-loved skin between his pectorals. “Hell if I know.”

His body jerks with a laugh. “You’re fucked, Jamie.” He says it as if it’s a medical diagnosis. A debilitating condition. But he does nothing to remedy it when his grip closes in my hair.

I press wet kisses on his stomach, smiling there. “I am. It’s all your fault.”

This needy groan rattles slowly in his throat. I can feel it vibrate inside him. “Ugh. Don’t leave,” he manages.

“Okay,” I murmur. My palm coasts across his hip, then my mouth finds the ridge there before my hand dips beneath the sheet and closes around him.

His shaft twitches in my loose grip and I hear the way he presses his lips together to suppress a overeager moan.

“By the way,” I tell him as I drag the tip of my nose across his low abdomen. “I need to be at the airport in an hour and half.”

Softly, he chuckles, smoothing a hand through my hair. “Okay so you're not that fucked.”

“I’m fucked, but I’m always aware.”

“Yeah, you’ve got good instincts like that.” I can hear the smile in his voice.

Moving down, I twist my fist up the length of his arousal and follow it with the graze of my bottom lip, with my tongue. “I’m glad you appreciate them.”

“ _Ah, god_.” His sigh floats into the air above him. “I definitely do.”

I have to have him once more -- before I leave, unsure of the next time I’ll see him. Of course we can make time to visit each other. It’s not that difficult. But it’s not exactly easy either.

We haven’t left this bed other than to part ways at separate bathrooms after we woke up for a shower and general upkeep of ourselves. A moment alone to dissolve the dull thud of hangovers with shower steam and mint toothpaste. Hydration and a new day.

Otherwise, we’re in bed. I don’t intend to get dressed until I absolutely have to. We’d just take our clothes off again anyway in this insatiable loop we keep giving into.

I don’t care. I’ll be gone too soon and he feels too perfect.

I take my time with him. His low, broken moans give away his slow unraveling as he disappears into the heat of my mouth.

His core seizes when another gravelly note escapes him. He arches hips toward me and strokes a heavy hand down the back of my head, between my shoulderblades.

The pure  _need_ makes me shift, gaining more leverage over him on my knees, my lungs filling with air before I take him further to the back of my throat.

Whatever intentions I had of a slow tease -- I’ve ditched all that and now I only want to ruin him. I wonder if I already have. Some twisted part of me wishes he would never have it this good ever, with anybody else. Even if we said goodbye after this trip and decided not to go through with this -- which would kill me but it’s an easy possibility -- he’d never be able to shake me and the effect I have on every hiding place he has inside his heart. In his head. In the pulse that courses through him.

Because that’s what he’s done to me. It’s incredible now, but I’ll despise it tomorrow.  

The urgency of his hard exhales, the throbbing bass in his voice with desperate swears, is so fucking hot. The ways we’ve found on each other to sear blinding white heat behind our eyes -- with skilled slick fingers and slippery mouths and attentive hands -- are like a new obsession. 

And I prove to him that I know them all.

_Surrender, I know you want to._

He chokes on a groan as he calls out, as if he’s not ready to let go but he can’t catch up. But he does, coming hard beneath me, the waves of release coursing unevenly through jerking muscles.

I ease my movements until I can feel him eventually fall slack, unwound. Through his panting breath, a loud, spent growl escapes and he reaches up to let heavy limbs fall over his eyes.

Shifting off of him, a smug pull at my cheek I won’t hide, I let him recover. I ease in beside him but I stay upright because if I lay back down this will never end.

He lets out a rush of breath between puffed cheeks and blinks hard. “How am I supposed to let you go now? You’re fucking brutal--” he mutters.

“I hope you remember that next time you want to ask some girl to send you a picture.”

“I will remember that any time I try to do anything. I’ll remember it and then keel over and die. Like,  _well at least I got the best possible head that ever existed. It was mine. Goodbye everyone_.”

Amused, I clench my fist and pump it once, as if to give myself an  _atta’boy_. “Awesome. Please don’t keel over and die, though. I need a ride to the airport.”

He manages to push himself up beside me, a soft chuckle humming in his throat. Then he dives toward me and sinks his mouth on the curve of my neck, just where it meets my collarbone. There, he leaves an affectionate little bite, a quiet growl rumbling there.

I tip my head back, dragging my teeth over my own bottom lip and laugh. “Are you trying to leave a mark?”

“I could,” he murmurs into my skin. “Give you something to remember me by.”

“I remember everything. Don’t question that.”

Instead of digging his teeth harder, he merely leaves a kiss at the base of my throat. “I won’t add to your collection of injuries, though. I’m nice like that.”

My head tips down and I touch my lips to the faint scar that’ll always be there on his shoulder. Then I rest my forehead on that spot for a beat and summon the will to acknowledge that it’s time to go.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. This is the end. Damn dude! Who would have thought? This is just a good place to end this part of their ~journey~. I intend to dive into the next phase of Jamie and Noble’s relationship, family, friends, Complicated Things, etc. Perhaps we’ll see what happens when the secret’s out. For now, though, let’s hurt for these two fools who have to say goodbye.

“You got everything?” Noble wonders.

Adjusting the backpack on my shoulder, I offer a solemn nod. Then I glance around his kitchen one more time. “Yeah.”

He swings his ring of keys around his finger and claps them into his palm as he looks at me. “Don’t get sad on me.”

“I’m not.” Trying to suppress the dread, I worry my bottom lip with my teeth and manage a small flick upward at the corner of my slanted mouth. “I’m ready.”

He turns and leads me out the door. Outside, the hot afternoon air surrounds me, Florida sunshine begging me to stay. It feels odd for October, though, and I think about New York in the fall. The golden skies, the different air, the kind that swirls yellow leaves, and I wish he was there for it.

I settle into the passenger seat of his Land Rover and let my heavy head rest back as he starts the car.

“I told you not to get sad, but I’m sad.”

I sniff a soft laugh and turn to look at him. “Of course I’m sad.”

Glancing down, a little smile curves on his cheek and he nods, as if to accept that there’s no way around it.

I reach over, just to faintly trace my finger along the inside of his elbow that’s propped on the console between us. “What would make you not sad?” I ask.

A little laugh blows out of him and he lifts his gaze to me, his brow creased as if the answer is obvious. But he won’t say.

“Are you sad that all the pizza in Miami sucks so bad? And I get to go home eat Lucali’s--?”

“Yes.” He smiles. “I am very sad about that, in fact.”

It’s funny now that we’re dressed and outside, in sober daylight -- even though it’s still just the two of us -- it’s harder to say what we mean.

“Then you’ll have to come back,” I tell him.

He nods. “You know I will.”

“Well there you go.” I smack the back of my hand against his shoulder. “Something to be happy about.”

I see him swallow hard and he nods again. Turning his gaze away for a moment, he clears his throat and drags a hand up and down his jaw as we idle there, parked in his driveway. Then he props his head back against the headrest. “Can I kiss you?” He draws in a nervous inhale before he looks over at me. “Here? Since--”

My head rests back to mirror his and I hold his quiet gaze for a moment. “Come here.”

He leans over the console. Grasping the edge of my face, he touches his mouth to mine.

I know we weren’t exactly going to share a goodbye kiss at the airport. I hadn’t really thought about the dynamics of him seeing me off at the departures curb, but I appreciate that he obviously had because I wouldn’t have known what to do.

I meet him in the middle, slowly savoring the warmth of his lips. It’s not a fiery kiss. It just lingers. The way I wish we could.

Easing away, he leaves me with one more. A purposeful, hard press of his lips to mine as if to finalize the sentiment before he pulls away and grasps for his seatbelt.

The ride to the airport is quiet. A stretch of turquoise sky and interstate. I watch the passing, ordinary landscape and mentally will my gut to stop twitching with regret.

I worry about the fact that this will only get harder. If we had stopped two months ago, I’d be blissfully ignorant. I’d have it easy. Hell, if I hadn’t been the one to respond to that noise complaint -- at the Greenwich Hotel that muggy night in August -- we’d be strangers still.

But maybe we never really were. Even the first night I met him, when we shook hands and I averted nervous eyes from that glowing, enamored gaze. When I introduced myself as Jimmy and hoped he’d believe me. There was already something there. I could deny it forever, but the faintest tug existed inside me when I first heard his voice.

I didn’t  _actually_ already know him from somewhere.  _No-no-no-no… I know I know you_  he mused, with confidence and a thoughtful squint as he lingered at the bar on the stool beside me. He swears he met me before that night, but it never happened. The way he looked at me -- like this… guy with a secret I was dying to know and I was supposed to wrack my brain to figure it out -- was almost hypnotic.

Something was there. Some elusive, fluid, invisible coil -- one that swooped, touched, wrapped around a hundred other places across the city -- started with him and ended with me.

I’ve never been one to believe that stuff. Fate and destiny and whatever. And I’ll get in over my head if I let that notion consume me, so I won’t.

But I know we were never meant to be strangers.  

“If we couldn’t have this--” I speak up, my voice soft as I turn my gaze out the front windshield. “ _Us_. Would you rather just be acquaintances… or nothing at all?”

Arching a curious eyebrow he glances over at me as he drives. “Why are those our only other options?”

“Aren’t they?”

“Well I hate them both.”

“I know. But I’m saying--”

“I’d have to go with nothing then,” he answers, his fists loosely slipping down the steering wheel. “And hope that one day, I just… fucking… die in some gangster shootout in an alleyway or something--”

The unexpected laughter presses on my chest, making my eyes sting, but it feels good. “Is that how you picture yourself going?”

“Basically.” He smiles. “Don’t make me answer that question. Especially now.”

“Okay.”

“We can have  _us_ as long as that’s what we both want,” he explains, as if it’s that simple. “Right?”

“I’d like to believe that.”

“We just… you know, have to find our own way. To be us.”

I accept that with a nod. Then he reaches over and drags fingertips along the back of my neck and I close my eyes for a moment to lock the sensation into my memory.

When we slow down at the airport terminal, Noble quickly finds a spot along the curb to swing his car into. The reality -- the imminent quick goodbye, the trek home alone -- sinks through me like a rock.

I huff a deep breath and step out of the car, pulling my backpack with me before I sling it over my shoulders.

He rounds the vehicle and doesn’t halt his pace until he all but crashes against me in a heavy hug. I’m used to the weight of him by now, the way he sort of sinks into someone when he embraces them. It's like he just gives them everything.

I squeeze him, gripping the back of his t-shirt, then firmly clap a hand there. For just a moment, we tighten the hug, as if to say _this is where I would kiss you_.

With a slight turn of my head, I murmur the reassurance in his ear, “I’m all yours, okay?” Then I pat him on the back once more and pull away.

He coughs out a breath, the hum of a laugh, and glances down. I catch the way he sniffles as he takes a step back. But then that curvy grin skates along his face and he looks at me before he turns to his car. “I’ll be back,” he calls out.

I have to smile as I shake my head and make my way to the sliding doors I can’t avoid. And back home to a city that seems brand new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you thought -- I appreciate you taking the time to read. :)


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